Out of line
Hermann tagged along with me to Bahnhof Zoo the other day. I wanted to buy a couple of American papers there. Unfortunately, we had to take the bus and I don't like taking the bus with Hermann. I don't like taking the bus with any of the natives here, come to think of it. I can't board the damned things properly. I always seem to cause a scene.
You see, Americans wait in line. The British queue up. The natives do something else, however. They form four or five or sometimes even six parallel lines all at once (not unlike the ancient Roman phalanx) and elbow their way in simultaneously. The old ladies are the worst. Even the fat ones have bony elbows here. They generally have a lower center of gravity, too and can do a number on your ribs quicker than you can say "Bitteschön." Hermann is skinny and rather fast and usually tries to pull me along but eventually gives up and then slides in sideways with his left elbow up at a 45 degree angle. This gives him cover from behind, I guess. The last third of the crowd then gets verbally abusive and very loud and sometimes starts throwing things at each other. When it does come to that occasional fist fight, the bus driver almost always intervenes and firmly insists that they duke it out outside.
Then, after all that, the children and the pregnant women with the baby buggies are allowed to enter. And then it's my turn. I'm always the very last one in. Hermann can't understand why I do this all the time and says that I'm way out of line. He tries to save a seat for me but he's hopelessly outnumbered and gives up and I end up standing. It's really embarrassing for him to be associated with someone that ineffectual, I suppose.
And the other passengers view me with suspicion, too. They try not to stare but they do. People who wait in line obviously make them nervous. After all, they must be doing it for some reason, right?
