The Art of Waiting in Line

Sometimes it was cold. Sometimes it rained. Sometimes, it wasn't even worth it. But you did it anyway, just to find out.

We were waiting in line to buy tickets to a movie. This was before the internet, before credit card phone bookings. This was palpable excitement. And there was an art to it.

You couldn't arrive too early, because that would defeat the purpose of the line. If you did, you would be amongst the first served and therefore almost guaranteed to obtain a seat. Not the point. If you came too late, however, the result was near the same. You almost knew for certain that there would be no seats left by the time you reached the box office. Again, not the point.

The thrill came from arriving just a little earlier than usual to see a movie that everyone else wanted to see too. Then you joined the line with a purpose. You rolled the dice. It felt exciting, almost dangerous. All of a sudden, certainty was gone. Stakes went up. You had a chance, but it could go either way. You were in the line. 

Inevitably, you would strike up a conversation with the person before you. That was the enemy. You pulled on a fake smile, behind which lurked the dark desire to see that person drop dead instantly on the spot, so that you could gain one precious place in the line. But there were politics involved, mind games to play. Deals to be made. That person could offer you their ticket if something went wrong, if they were stood up by their date, which was also on your wish list. That person was a pawn for you to manipulate. It was war.

You also often started talking to the person behind you. To them, you were an obstacle, but to you, they were harmless. You were first. They would only pick up the crumbs that you would leave. You had power. You had status. You were in the line.

The adrenaline would start to kick in as you approached the ticket booth. Every step mattered, every inch was a victory. You cheered quietly whenever someone left the line, often to curse their return with arms full of popcorn for whoever was holding their place. You would count the number of people left ahead of you. You would come up with scientific methods to calculate the odds of you finally buying that precious ticket, based on the estimated size of the screen and the number of people in the line who might have successfully bought a ticket for the same film as you. Because of course, not everyone in the line was there for the same film. The gamble had multiple facets, countless angles and infinite variables. What if that couple standing two punters down from you were there to buy tickets for a group of friends? What if the four teenagers about to fork out their hard earned pocket money were actually there for a different movie? What if? You didn't know, you never could. You were in the line.

Then the dread poured over you where the box office lady (it was often a lady) would start fixing a sign in the window. Did that say 'sold out'? You struggled to see, you couldn't read the name of the sold out movie, you felt deep in your heart that it was the one you were there to see, but there was still hope. There was still a chance. You were still in the line, doubling down in the hope that there was a ticket, somewhere, with your name on it. You kept moving forward, crunching up your eyes to read that stupid sign. Then it was down to the last few, the last remaining human obstacles to your joy and happiness. You were ready to drop kick the person in front of you if they took too long to check their change. Then you were there! You trembled, still not sure whether you would make it. Your voice would rise in pitch, sweat would bead on your forehead, and you would timidly ask for that glorious seat...

Then you were in. The satisfaction was ecstasy, it felt like the world had aligned its stars just for you on the silver screen. The popcorn tasted like caviar, the soda was your champagne, your seat was your throne. As the lights would dim, a smile would creep onto your face, your eyes would adjust to the darkness and goose pimples would ripple up and down your arms.

You had made it.

You had conquered the line.