push it real good

i've just come back from a tour of the Sydney Opera House. i figured that as this was my third visit to the city and i had never actually walked up those stairs and into the place was a situation that needed rectifying. that today the opera house was free to enter was a situation that facilitated this.
cleverly i had signed up for email alerts about the open day, which i'd seen in the newspaper a couple of weeks ago. this meant that i was in possession of, if not a golden ticket, a pretty good 'priority pass' which meant that i did not have to join the initial queue to get in.
now, i'm not sure at what point a queue ceases to be a queue and turns into something much harder to control but what was happening down Circular Quay this morning must have been pretty close. to say that it was heaving is an understatement along the lines of saying the Pope rather likes the idea of Catholicism.
anyway, skipping my way up the steps i headed for the priority pass gate and did, to my delight, make it into the house (as we natives like to call it, before going on to talk about tinnies, joeys, vegies and anything else that can and therefore must be abbreviated). and then, the queues really started.
it seems that the whole of Sydney is, like me, to quote my friend Stephanie, 'careful with money'. obviously by this Steph means 'a tightwad', and i can't argue, my feeling being, you can't have your nest egg and spend it, as there were seas upon seas of blank faces waiting to move from one foyer to auditorium to foyer to auditorium.
i very soon turned into one of those people that really irritate me: a queue jumper.
i know!
i blame it on the crumpled up 'priority pass' print out in my pocket - i almost felt it was my right, no my duty, not to stand around for hours, prefering instead to insinuate myself amid large groups of tourists by way of making out i was with the person asking a question of one of the guides.
i was, i admit, quite shameless.
i also tried the 'oh where have you got to?' look as i sailed past the patient hordes. you know, the 'why of course i'm not jumping the queue, it's just that i've lost the people i'm with look.'
i was introduced to a version of this by an old friend back in Spain at a Madonna concert (I'm talking pre-Brazil surgery, popeye bicep Madonna, circa 1990). arriving fashionably late we pushed our way all the way through the crowd until we were just 3 bodies away from the stage. the whole time Eduardo was calling 'Mercedes!' to our imaginary friend up front. it worked a treat (not counting the trail of abuse we no doubt garnered in our wake).
so, i saw the inside of the house. and very nice it was too: exactly like i was expecting it to look. stages, seats and those weird mushroomy things on the ceiling that help with acoustics.
i will try and remember my barefaced cheek next time someone pushes in front of me, accepting it as karma earned.
as i left the queue had got even longer!