We found the departure gate for our flight to Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, at Dubai airport, which must surely be one of the poshest on the planet.
As we waited to be called forward to board I surveyed my fellow passengers. I was delighted to note that I was the only white female (I embrace the opportunity to be one of a kind, that's why I have a Blackberry smart phone), Mike was one of half a dozen white males and the total number of women, was about twelve. This meant that the remaining passengers were Bangladeshi males.
The standard announcement to proceed to the gate was given with a lengthy preamble that there was no need for everyone to rush up as soon as the announcement finished, perhaps English provided a language barrier, but very few of the passengers that leapt up as soon as she'd finished looked like they were first or business class passengers. The announcer pleaded several times for the swarming throng to sit down but it fell on deaf ears. As we are well mannered British citizens we dutifully boarded when our zone was called, pushing to pass those whose progress to board hadn't been speeded up by trying to push through to the aircraft first. Further evidence of their disobedience was on display as several tried to board with regular sized suitcases that should have been checked into the hold, rucksacks being placed into overhead lockers even though they were too large for the locker to shut and a man using his mobile phone across the aisle from me as the plane taxied for take off. I don't think his call connected which was a relief. I soon remembered one of my theories about taking flights with a different nationality. You can guess the collective personality of a nation by their behaviour on an aircraft. Germans stay seated and wait to be told what to do, even at the end of a ten hour transatlantic flight, so the Bangladeshis ignore every rule completely and just do what they want anyway. About half way through the flight I got a nosebleed and as this is a fairly regular occurrence I was unperturbed by this, however I'd exhausted our supply of tissues. As I went to stop an air hostess as she rushed past my row I realised that she was making an appeal to the gents seated three rows in front for whoever had been smoking in the toilet should own up. No-one did, and so she explained, like a school mistress that no one would get into trouble but she needed to know in case the cigarette hadn't been put out properly. After asking nicely three times the next door but one neighbour dobbed him in, tranquility restored, I requested my tissues. You won't be surprised to read that as the plane taxied towards the main terminal building after arrival, that everyone stood up and started collecting their belongings, ready to get off. The pilot begged them all to sit down but no, It appears that as far as Bangladeshi males are concerned rules aren't made to be broken, just ignored.