Have you ever lined up? How do you feel? Most of us line up a large number of times during our lives. Waiting lines are such a thorn in our sides at popular destinations — Disney World, the Empire State Building — that many of us are willing to pay to avoid lines.

Culture has much to do with how we handle waiting lines. The British are the best people in the world at waiting in lines. I’ve never seen a people less concerned with lines than the British.

If you’ve been to Wimbledon you know what I mean. There are no online ticket sales for this fortnight of tennis. You queue up for hours, often a half day or more with 8,0000 others on a golf course near the stadium, suffering whatever rain, wind or sun.

It is an unwritten but ever present rule at Wimbledon that you never talk about or even admit that the queue exists. You’ll hear and participate in every conversation imaginable while waiting. It’s not really possible to jump or break-in a queue at Wimbledon because of the stewards and the time-dated stamps they hand out, and it’s considered bad behavior anywhere by the British.

Some places such as restaurants in Canada and in the States are getting wise. The host or hostess greets you, and says politely. “Sorry, but it will be about 45 minutes!” Almost always you’ll be seated in just 20 to 30 minutes. It’s called managing expectations. But, now you’re very happy as if you had something to do with getting a table earlier.

Finally, technology promises to save some queuing time. In the years ahead, stores will adopt Apple’s methods, with every salesperson capable of taking payments. Then the lines will disappear.

With age, perhaps, comes wisdom. I do whatever I can to avoid activities where queues are quite common. But you can’t always avoid lines, so I make the best of them. I usually start conversations with total strangers in a queue... at the very least you open yourself up to an opportunity for an engaging conversation. Queues, like life, have a lot to do with attitudes.

In many cultures, it is considered unlucky to spill salt. Fortunately, many cultures also have a solution to the problem, which usually involves throwing a pinch of salt over your shoulder. It may seem confusing to modern humans, but knowing that salt was once incredibly valuable can change this perspective.

For thousands of years, salt was an extremely rare commodity. It was difficult to obtain so that the price was very high. Many trading routes were set up to carry salt, people were paid in salt, and salt was sometimes worth more than its weight in gold. Therefore, spilling salt was considered wasteful.

Because of its high value, salt was also associated with friendship and good fortune. Offerings of salt were included in many religious ceremonies, and people might bring salt to a new home for good luck. These associations would have suggested that it would be bad luck to spill salt, since it would seem to violate salt’s fortunate properties.

Salt is also an excellent preservative. It prevents food from going bad. As such, it came to be linked with health and longevity. In some cultures, spilling salt was thought to reduce one's well-being. In Britain, for example, each spilled grain was said to represent a tear, while in Germany spilled salt awakened the devil, bringing misfortune.

The fear of spilling salt was also adopted into the Christian faith. It is said that Judas spilled salt at the Last Supper, and since he later turned out to be the betrayer of Christ, spilled salt is considered unlucky by many Christians.

Should you be unfortunate enough to spill salt, you might throw a pinch over your left shoulder to blind the Devil.

A lot of people in England have a very strong obsession (痴迷) with football. You might even say they are fanatics! When I was growing up, everyone would rush out to the playground during the break times, desperate to play a game of football.

Whenever there is a big match, all the flags for local football teams are hung outside every window, or even spread proudly on T-shirts or scarves. There is an atmosphere of excitement in the air. Groups of young men crowd into dark, packed bars, peering at tiny television screens in the corners. They shout and scream in frustration when their team loses a goal, or with joy when there is a moment of success.  

Football has never been something I have been particularly interested in. For years, I have had to feign (装作) excitement, and pick a team or risk ridicule (嘲笑). You cannot say you don’t like or do not follow football in England, as often this would lead to a long dialogue in which someone would begin telling you why you should support their team. Growing up in north London, I quickly learned everyone around me supported Arsenal, and so I blindly did the same, for fear of having the same conversation more than fifty times.

You do not have to be a fan of football to get caught up in the excitement. Often, I feel annoyed when everyone around me is full of excitement over two groups of people kicking a ball in a field. However, I understand the culture, and I enjoy the excitement. While I may not ultimately desire to play the sport or take part in supporting the teams, I will nevertheless defend people's obsession with the sport. It is their history and obsession.