At the gate lounge waiting for a flight from Kuala Lumpur to Kathmandu

The gate lounge at the airport is a vacuum in space and time. The body is paused, basic functions not permitted — no toilet, no food, and only regulated air-conditioned air. Between timezones, smart phones out of sync, weather reduced to a smoggy haze through the reinforced glass window. Here our primitive cultural nuances are accentuated and dominate our interactions and behaviour.

For example:

People queue at the ticket gate, though there is no cause to, and no request from the airline. An impatience and anxiousness arises. You queue because to not queue means to miss out, be left behind, or get worse rations. And the queue is not an ordered single file but a crowd. Spilling out and around each other. Shoulder to shoulder, shoulder to elbow, chest to knee gathered in a clump of breathing humans, in the waiting room. 
I don’t queue, I sit and wait, queueing with my brain instead of my body. When I do join the queue, I am elbowed, kneed, spun and tumbled out. Left standing confused, scratching my head. Without a step taken on my part, I am tossed out the queue. A step taken back, I obligingly let another in front, and I’m again in the queue, five metres further from the ticket counter.