The Line Dance

I can count the number of times on one hand that we have waited in line since entering Vietnam. This is quite something. A system that works so well that lines rarely occur. Traffic is not the endless row of cars you might see during an American rush hour, even at it's worst in Vietnam things never stop moving. Granted, you frequently see mopeds topple or smack into the side of a car (just saw a man with a bag full of eggs have a head on collision...eggs all over the street)...anyway, it works. Only recently have I begun to understand the true ramifications of the 'movement at all cost' mentality. On the small scale things get ugly fast. When you are standing in line waiting to use the toilet in some dank cement cesspool and an elderly woman refuses to yield, to stagnate even for a second to respect the age old institution of line formation the system loses it's charm. This example is not hypothetical. Grandma rushed in behind me, elbowed me in he gut and unbuttoned her pants while standing inches from the stall already in use. Had I the Vietnamese vocabulary I might have asked 'How certain are you that you have to use that hole in the floor more than me?'
Or perhaps an observation on anatomical probability, 'Excuse me mam, your bladder has had years to stretch, I'm young and physiologically less capable of containing as much fluid as you.'
Alas, I was left slack jawed, turning purple with irritation, to contemplate how irrational it is.. how completely counter to the process of getting things done, to efficiency. She took her sweet time.
Nothing boils my blood faster than being tossed into a crowd of chattering women who have never seen the pee dance.
This painful memory resurfaced yesterday morning at the Hanoi train station. Nathan and I each chose a separate line in hopes that one of us would be better than the other at getting to the front. I felt my skin getting tingly as soon as the first gaggle of four young women snuck their way to the front. Nathan was having the same issues in his 'line'. Somehow after starting third he was sixth. Nothing makes you feel invisible quite like... being invisible. Was I invisible?
Self doubt will get you nowhere in the face of a Vietnamese ticket counter. I had a breakthrough when I let my irritation bubble to the surface. My hand shot to the counter in front of me, blocking the women to my left. The low growl that left my throat made the woman behind me laugh uncomfortably, then back away.
I had discovered the trick...as an outsider you have to sow the seed of doubt in the crowds around you. The doubt that makes them ask themselves 'is this Farang mentally stable?'
The truth is that you will never out elbow an elderly woman, never out sneak a teen girl with 20,000 Dong in her fist. It just isn't possible.