Lunch.
And at this point, if not for me having finally gotten through said line, I’d be on the verge of personally administering a (regrettably nonlethal, on account of my personal lack of strength) bludgeoning to the next person to go out of their way to prove themselves too braindead to process the prospect of a fucking line.
(Notably, there are these things intended to act as a barrier, but these smooth-brained imbeciles instead opt to go under them or simply undo the ropes.)