Queueing culture is one of the sharpest and least-announced differences between countries, and misreading it marks you instantly. At one pole sit places like Britain, Japan, and Northern Europe, where the line is quasi-sacred: people queue neatly, sometimes on painted platform markings, leave respectful gaps, and treat cutting as a genuine moral offence met with cold fury or public correction. At the other pole, in parts of South Asia, the Middle East, Southern Europe, and elsewhere, service can run on assertive proximity, where a polite gap reads as not actually waiting and others will flow into it; holding your ground calmly, without aggression, is simply how turns are taken.
Helpful structures exist in many countries: numbered-ticket machines in banks, pharmacies, and government offices, which replace physical lines entirely, so scan the room for a dispenser before standing anywhere; separate priority lines for the elderly, pregnant, and disabled, which should be respected scrupulously; and boarding customs like letting passengers off before getting on.
The method for a newcomer is observation first: watch how locals arrange themselves before joining, ask who is last where informal queues are the custom, and match local assertiveness without exceeding it. Losing your temper over queue chaos never helps anywhere; patience is the one universally admired queueing behaviour.