How Observing American Tourists Taught Me a Brutal Lesson in Hyper-Individualism
<p>A few weeks ago, I saw a lady bawling her eyes out in an Italian airport security queue.</p>
<p>At first, I thought perhaps she had just said goodbye to someone she won’t be able to see again for a long time. Or she was <em>really</em> sad to leave the country where you can buy a bottle of decent wine for just a few euros.</p>
<p>But she continued to cry for long enough to get people around her looking increasingly startled and worried.</p>
<p>Eventually, one of them asked if she was all right.</p>
<p>She replied, in an unmistakably American accent, that she’s sure she’ll miss her flight because of long queues.</p>
<p>‘Well… you can just <em>ask</em> people to let you through?’ they said back to her.</p>
<p>The American lady froze in confusion. But a group of people in front started to make way for her to pass, and so she snapped out of it, grabbed her backpack and went ahead without saying a word.</p>
<p>Even after her figure disappeared in the sea of travellers, I couldn’t stop being confused at her confusion, though.</p>
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