First Come, First Serve (?)

Life in Spain is all about making queue. Be it in banks, hospitals, supermarkets, theatres, lottery stands, department stores, FNAC, Casa del Libro, Mc Donald's, Kebab's, bus stops or even the chinese grocery store by your home. But as far as my experience concerns, I still haven't found the clearly defined standard of queuing etiquette in Madrid.

Every morning, on weekdays, I must hurry to Moncloa to form a part of an incredibly mile-long queue of oficinistas waiting for the bus number 162, a sole mean of public transport that connects one of the most congested squares in Madrid to a desolated suburban office zone near Aravaca. Since I enjoy the pleasure of sitting and reading on the way to the office, I always arrive exactly when the first bus leaves and wait for the upcoming empty one.

Unfortunately, there are also those who want to earn this privilege without effort by shamelessly cutting the queue on the pretext of talking with their colleagues or acquaintances who have previously arrived before them.

I've been experiencing this phenomenon for one full year and see that this is not quite common in some other places or establishments. It particulary happens only at this cursed bus stop and, therefore, can't be concluded as a Spanish queuing etiquette for which I at first wrongly mistook.
Spaniards do jump the queue , although rarely. Most of the culprits are immigrants (no offense here) and that, in my opinion, contributes sadly to the fact that foreigners are negatively viewed as troublesome in the native eyes.

At first, I was so firm in my believe in the proper queuing etiquette and always gave some openly accusing gazes at those who had a real cheek to slip in front of me, until one fine day I realised that it was done regularly, even by a colleague of mine who always came to salute me and stood by me as if it was one of the most ordinary behaviour in the world. No guilt, no shame. It shook my foundation of believe to the core. And I started thinking maybe I was the one who was swimming against the tide.

I'm ashamed of what my colleague does but still I haven't got the guts to tell her that I really don't think she should cut the queue just like this. I don't want to look at the others in the eyes, because I know, though not my fault, I was partly to blame. I wish every morning that the bus come before she finds me or that my existance in the queue went unnoticed or, be that as it may, somebody reproached her (or us?).

Maybe it's too much to ask for. Perhaps I'm expecting something from the place that can't grant such request. Or it's simply the way it is and I'm too serious about life. But there's one thing I know for sure; making a queue at this bus stop isn't what it was anymore and has become some kind of stressful adventure each morning.