Excuse me, you're a little close

BOSTON - Shaws supermarket, 7:00 P.M, on a Thursday evening.

I'm picking up a few dinner essentials: chicken breast, roasted potatoes, apples and a few cans of seltzer. I decide, in the interest of time, to use the self-checkout.

Waiting in line, my thoughts turn to Chinese class. There's an oral exam this week which I've haven't studied for and will probably screw up, an upcoming skit project and I don't have a partner yet and a slew of character-copying to do.

"Excuse me. You're a little close."

I look up. A woman, in her late 20s with a very cropped haircut has turned around in the line to chastise me. Apparently I'm invading her personal bubble.

I'm not touching of her or even in danger of touching her. I am perhaps a foot away from her leg. But it's too close.

I mumble an apology and step back. But why should I? The concept of "personal space" is largely an Victorian construct. In China and elsewhere people crowd in large masses, standing close. There's little queuing, and when there is people make sure no one can butt the line.

So why shouldn't I stand close? I'm only trying to show her the rest of the world.