So I’m standing in a long line at the ING cafeteria for lunch today. The line next to me (equally as long) had to close due to a malfunction in the cash register. Ugh. All those poor buggers — close to 30 people I think — left standing dazed and confused, unsure if they should get out of their dead line and head to the back of mine, or if they should hang tight for the register to get fixed.

But then something magical happened. A guy ahead of me in my line let the first guy in the dead line cut him. Then the guy behind him did the same. And so on.

There is something poetic about two long lines of hungry people merging together before you; a giant, human zipper. It didn’t bother me one bit that I went from 10th to about 20th in line.


But some people just don’t get it.

Four women in the dead line were gabbing away (in French, so I have no idea if they were discussing national security or nail polish) next to me. It was my turn to perform the zipper move, so I let the first of the gabbers cut me.

And what do you think happened? Gabby #2 proceeded to follow her friend close behind not letting me in!

So what do you think I did? I dug my shoulder between the birds, looked at Gabby #2 square in the face, and in my best Rhode Island accent asked: “Evah hear of a zippa?”.

She looked confused. Either she didn’t understand me, or she didn’t know what a zipper was. Clearly, her and her friends were not paying attention. Or maybe they were being arrogant, or playing the “I’m a woman, so you need to be chivalrous and let me through” card.

What is this, high school? Must I be courteous in the face of such blatant disregard for the zipper?

I felt proud of my actions and I also take comfort in the fact that I would not have hesitated to do the same if four burley maintenance workers tried pulling the same. Burley #2 would have gotten an earful!