Next Please...

I recently encountered another one of my pet peeves. I had just gotten back from a 10-day trip out of the country and I was craving a good old-fashioned American cheeseburger. As soon as I made my way through Customs and Immigration at LAX, I headed for the food court. The closest thing they have to a burger joint is McDonald's (sorry if that offends anyone, I'm just not a big fan of Micky D's. But after 10 days of eating rice, it'll do.) As I walk up, I see four registers open...but there are only two really long lines. Why is that? People will form two extremely long lines instead of four shorter ones. I approached the lady who was standing at the end of the two lines...straddling both lines. "Which line are you in?" I asked. "Whichever one is faster." she answered. Are you kidding me?! Pick a stinking line already! We were down to two lines, and now here she was trying to cut it down to one! For four registers! C'mon people. Four registers. Four lines. I'm sorry if the pimple-faced kid at your register is slower than the one at mine. I'm sorry if the guy in front of you is ordering 6 Big Macs...one with no onions, two with mayonnaise only, one with no pickles, one with just meat and bread and the other without the "special sauce." But that's the breaks. That's the risk you take. But you gotta commit. "Next Please..."