In his Essays on the English People, George Orwell remarked that any foreign observer would be impressed by his methodical behavior and in particular his “desire to queue”. This is one of those British stereotypes that have come to mind in recent times, as the mother of all queues is tall and snakes along the southern bank of the River Thames.
750,000 people were expected to go to London before the funeral of the deceased Queen Elizabeth II on Monday. A few days ago, queues began to form on the opposite side of the Thames from historic Westminster Hall, where his coffin stands high on a cathedral. As of late Thursday afternoon, the line was approximately 4.3 miles (7 kilometers) long.
We know all this because there is an official live queue tracker, which reports destination length and average time at speeds of around 0.5 mph.
People standing in line get wristbands to mark their places. There are “additional wellness facilities” (read: toilets) and water fountains that do away with the inconveniences of slowly shuffling throughout the day and night. There is also detailed guidance on what to bring (food, water), what not to bring (flasks, camping equipment, large bags) and how to behave. Adequate security arrangements are in place, lest it seems necessary so far, while the archival footage Queen Shown on the big screen. Volunteer faith leaders are ready to help mourners with what they are going through. Even Disneyland, with its famous queue-management strategies, can’t match it.
So many people came from so far away to wait for so long that such a brief look at the coffin of the late emperor would have many people around the world curious and some excessive. People took a day off from work and pulled the children out of school. They’re not looking forward to the latest iPhone, but for the opportunity to pay respect to someone most of them have never met.
Most Americans despise long lines. “It was incredible,” wrote a friend while returning home from a trip to London amid the chaos of travel this summer. “It took me two hours to get to Heathrow and the people were just tolerant and dutiful. Never will in America. Americans will be angry and there will be chaos.”
To the rigid individualist, queues usually seem like a poor use of time, suggesting poor organization and testament to the herd mentality. They can be uncomfortable if you’re wearing the wrong shoes or don’t have a bathroom. In the early ’90s, after standing in line in minus 20 degrees Celsius (minus 4 Fahrenheit) temperatures to buy some essentials at a general grocery store in Moscow, I lost all emotion in my toes.
Yet we all queue until the end as an inevitable means – to get through airport security or onto a ski lift or to a museum exhibit. I happily waited in a long line on February 1st to buy a great hot chocolate at a stand in Paris. But I have never done anything like the hundreds of thousands of Britons and visitors are doing now. It takes a certain conservatism, humility and determination to drop everything and be a part of it. In the never-ending debate about whether or not there is such a thing as society, there seems to be overwhelming evidence of it here.
Orwell was not wrong; There is something to the British reputation as queer-tolerant, some to the Industrial Revolution and some to other wartime rationing. Fair queuing is so synonymous with general decency that when the UK instituted its first citizenship exam in 2010, there’s a good line on how to make it. When former Prime Minister Boris Johnson wanted to defend his policy of sending refugees to Rwanda, he accused male refugees of “paying people smugglers to jump in the queue”.
But the reputation of a nation eager to stand in line – Britain that joins the back of a queue before asking what it is for – is mostly exaggerated. Yes, Brits wait in line overnight for Wimbledon tickets, but Americans camp out for tickets to a Duke University basketball game. The Brits were as furious about the travel chaos as they made it clear on social media. Even recent reports that Tesco shoppers preferred to queue instead of using self-checkout proved to be superfluous.
People queuing to see the Queen describe several purposes: to express gratitude and pay their respects, to be part of a unique moment in Britain’s long life. The deaths of other historical figures have led to mass public gatherings in the past, but nothing more so.
In 2002, about 200,000 people came to pay homage to the Queen Mother. More than 300,000 people passed through Westminster Hall in 1952 to pay tribute to George VI. Such was the A to honor Britain’s wartime leader Winston Churchill – the wait was about three hours and the line was about a mile long. About 250,000 Americans waited 10 hours to see the lay-in-state of John F. Kennedy. Nearly 100,000 people pay tribute to the late South African President, Nobel Peace Prize laureate and world-changer Nelson MandelaDue to many disappointments, he was prevented from doing so. I am setting aside the communist figures of Mao and Lenin.
By all accounts, the enthusiasm among those awaiting his honor is serious, neighborly, hopeful, joyful, sad and above all, determined. People made new friends, stood silently or talked. No one had any doubts that the wait was worth it. People passing through the historic hall describe the experience as visceral.
FOMO aside, how eager would you be to join the queue that is five miles long and 30 hours long? If you had asked me a few weeks ago, the answer would have been faster. Now, I’m not so sure. But I’m glad there are many people who don’t hesitate.
750,000 people were expected to go to London before the funeral of the deceased Queen Elizabeth II on Monday. A few days ago, queues began to form on the opposite side of the Thames from historic Westminster Hall, where his coffin stands high on a cathedral. As of late Thursday afternoon, the line was approximately 4.3 miles (7 kilometers) long.
We know all this because there is an official live queue tracker, which reports destination length and average time at speeds of around 0.5 mph.
People standing in line get wristbands to mark their places. There are “additional wellness facilities” (read: toilets) and water fountains that do away with the inconveniences of slowly shuffling throughout the day and night. There is also detailed guidance on what to bring (food, water), what not to bring (flasks, camping equipment, large bags) and how to behave. Adequate security arrangements are in place, lest it seems necessary so far, while the archival footage Queen Shown on the big screen. Volunteer faith leaders are ready to help mourners with what they are going through. Even Disneyland, with its famous queue-management strategies, can’t match it.
So many people came from so far away to wait for so long that such a brief look at the coffin of the late emperor would have many people around the world curious and some excessive. People took a day off from work and pulled the children out of school. They’re not looking forward to the latest iPhone, but for the opportunity to pay respect to someone most of them have never met.
Most Americans despise long lines. “It was incredible,” wrote a friend while returning home from a trip to London amid the chaos of travel this summer. “It took me two hours to get to Heathrow and the people were just tolerant and dutiful. Never will in America. Americans will be angry and there will be chaos.”
To the rigid individualist, queues usually seem like a poor use of time, suggesting poor organization and testament to the herd mentality. They can be uncomfortable if you’re wearing the wrong shoes or don’t have a bathroom. In the early ’90s, after standing in line in minus 20 degrees Celsius (minus 4 Fahrenheit) temperatures to buy some essentials at a general grocery store in Moscow, I lost all emotion in my toes.
Yet we all queue until the end as an inevitable means – to get through airport security or onto a ski lift or to a museum exhibit. I happily waited in a long line on February 1st to buy a great hot chocolate at a stand in Paris. But I have never done anything like the hundreds of thousands of Britons and visitors are doing now. It takes a certain conservatism, humility and determination to drop everything and be a part of it. In the never-ending debate about whether or not there is such a thing as society, there seems to be overwhelming evidence of it here.
Orwell was not wrong; There is something to the British reputation as queer-tolerant, some to the Industrial Revolution and some to other wartime rationing. Fair queuing is so synonymous with general decency that when the UK instituted its first citizenship exam in 2010, there’s a good line on how to make it. When former Prime Minister Boris Johnson wanted to defend his policy of sending refugees to Rwanda, he accused male refugees of “paying people smugglers to jump in the queue”.
But the reputation of a nation eager to stand in line – Britain that joins the back of a queue before asking what it is for – is mostly exaggerated. Yes, Brits wait in line overnight for Wimbledon tickets, but Americans camp out for tickets to a Duke University basketball game. The Brits were as furious about the travel chaos as they made it clear on social media. Even recent reports that Tesco shoppers preferred to queue instead of using self-checkout proved to be superfluous.
People queuing to see the Queen describe several purposes: to express gratitude and pay their respects, to be part of a unique moment in Britain’s long life. The deaths of other historical figures have led to mass public gatherings in the past, but nothing more so.
In 2002, about 200,000 people came to pay homage to the Queen Mother. More than 300,000 people passed through Westminster Hall in 1952 to pay tribute to George VI. Such was the A to honor Britain’s wartime leader Winston Churchill – the wait was about three hours and the line was about a mile long. About 250,000 Americans waited 10 hours to see the lay-in-state of John F. Kennedy. Nearly 100,000 people pay tribute to the late South African President, Nobel Peace Prize laureate and world-changer Nelson MandelaDue to many disappointments, he was prevented from doing so. I am setting aside the communist figures of Mao and Lenin.
By all accounts, the enthusiasm among those awaiting his honor is serious, neighborly, hopeful, joyful, sad and above all, determined. People made new friends, stood silently or talked. No one had any doubts that the wait was worth it. People passing through the historic hall describe the experience as visceral.
FOMO aside, how eager would you be to join the queue that is five miles long and 30 hours long? If you had asked me a few weeks ago, the answer would have been faster. Now, I’m not so sure. But I’m glad there are many people who don’t hesitate.