Issue date: 3/5/07 Section: Opinion

Sometimes I'll be waiting to pay for my purchases at a respectable location like CVS or, if I'm really unlucky, Duane Reade. I'll be thinking about how great it is that linoleum flooring is here to stay, or that we live in a wonderful age where one can purchase three to five different shades of black mascara. (My mother always told me that I should use clear or brown mascara because I have orange hair, but I showed her. Well, not so much "showed" as "didn't listen to.")

In this scenario, the clerk behind the counter will inevitably ask if the next customer "on line" will please advance to the register, and I cringe - "on line" is one of my personal linguistic pet peeves. The phrase is "in line." One waits in a line, not on it.

I'm from Chicago. I've spent three-and-a-half years of college walking around with a distinct set of regional beliefs and vocabulary that nobody else I meet on a daily basis seems to grasp. Here are some quick examples: Putting ketchup on a hot dog is a sin. There are eight blocks in a mile. Housing can be affordable. Addresses should make sense. The lake is always east. LSD is a street. Mayors are elected for life. The subway is called "the El" for "elevated." Also, I say "gym shoes" and call all carbonated beverages "Coke." Except for champagne. I call champagne "awesome."

The first time I heard someone refer to themselves as having stood "on line," it honestly jarred me. I was baffled. As far as I can tell, it's a regional thing. When I mentioned that I was going to be writing about this, a couple of people hanging out at the WSN office commented that "on line" is a Jersey thing. You know what, that's something I've noticed about living in New York City: Whenever something is unflattering, blame it on New Jersey.

Where did the phrase "on line" come from? What is, as they say, its etymology? I'm not actually a linguist or philologist. I don't know. I could have asked a bunch of NYU professors to weigh in, but I didn't. I wanted to check "The New York Times Manual of Style and Usage," but WSN's copy is missing. I could have asked a bunch of people milling around the area which they thought was correct, but ultimately, the "on line" vs. "in line" debate shouldn't require a lot of discussion or complex academic explanations. One is correct, and one is not.

As far as I'm concerned, the phrase "on line" only works if there's a contrasting "off line." Have you on-liners ever gotten off line? No, you probably get out of line. The antonym of "out" is "in." If you were physically standing on a line that was painted onto the unforgiving turf below your gym shoes, then you would also be able to step off of the line, and I would forgive your use of "on line." But lines are rarely painted on the ground.

Things get more confusing because - you knew where this was going - "online" actually means something rather common these days; it's the state of being connected to or contained on the internet. One could make the argument for context; it should be clear which line you were speaking of being on depending on whether or not you were standing in a Duane Reade or talking about fan-created hobbit porn LiveJournal communities.

But what about Ticketmaster? If you're waiting for tickets online, things could get tricky: Who wants to wait on line online to get his choice Nickelback seats? (Nickelback, of course, being the second band listed on the Ticketmaster.com front page when I pulled it up.) Waiting in line online is more dignified. Nickelback, however, is never dignified. And Ticketmaster sucks.

I started to write this column as a vanity project. "On line" really annoys me. I hear it all of the damn time and I'm slowly inching toward my breaking point. Writing about it helped excise the demons. Furthermore, I think I've established the bizarre state of withdrawal I perpetually walk around in, attempting to seclude myself from New York society lest I become contaminated and start saying things like "on line" and rooting for the Jets.


Rachel Kreiter writes about words every Monday but refuses to mince them, especially as editorial board chair. Have her mock your grasp of compound modifiers at rkreiter@nyunews.com.

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