An American in Paris, David Lebovitz, writes:

When you fly in to Charles de Gaulle airport, there’s a mad rush to get off the plane. Then you’re herded to a holding pen-like area, where you wait to go through passport control. It’s complete chaos: everyone surging forward, en masse, trying to get around everyone else, regardless of who got there first. That is, except for the Americans, who wait patiently for their turn, but quickly learn that if they don’t assert themselves, they’re going to spend their entire vacation in that stifling, airless space.

If you leave 4.5-inches of space in front or behind you in France, you may as well not even be there as people take that to mean you’re not waiting. I know that because they act very surprised when I tap them on the shoulder and point out that yes, I are indeed standing in that line with my luggage, just like they are, to check in to my flight. I’m not just hanging out at the airport with a suitcase because I had nothing better to do.

So you have to constantly be on your toes and you can’t let your guard down for a second. If you do, you’ll never get anywhere. It’s pretty exhausting.

When you arrive at Dulles Airport, in spite of its prison-like atmosphere, there’s a person guiding folks towards the correct lanes, which are clearly marked. Although the line can be ginormous, and everyone’s complaining about the wait, it’s pretty calm, since no one’s trying to skirt around you to slide ahead. You just stand there, red-eyed, inching forward. I don’t know why Americans are complaining about waiting in line: you just stand there and mind your own business until it’s your turn.