At War With History

I am directing passengers who just departed a plane to their correct immigration queues. Our airport has three queues, and I announce it several times to the incoming crowds.

Me: “UK nationals here, EU nationals here, and non-EU nationals here!”

Passenger: “Where is the American line?”

Me: “Here, sir; the non-EU nationals line.”

Passenger: “No, not non-EU. American!”

Me: *Seeing his passport* “Sir, the US is a non-EU nation, so you take this line.”

Passenger: “No, I mean the dedicated American line!”

Me: “There is no dedicated line for US nationals, sir. Just these three.”

He just stares at me like I have revealed some horrific truth. A woman who I assume is his wife comes over to join him.

Passenger’s Wife: “Which line, honey?”

Passenger: “There’s no line for Americans.”

Passenger’s Wife: “Wait, they have a line for UK! We saved them in the war, so this must be for us.”

I see them get in line, wait fifteen minutes, and get informed by the immigration officer that they need to stand in the non-EU line. As I am leaving for my lunch break, I overhear them as I pass.

Passenger: “But we beat you in the war! We own this island!”