It's always the same. A mass of bodies fumbling for phones, luggage and somewhere to stand. Why do so many people stand up as soon as an aircraft comes to a complete stop, or sometimes slightly before? Last week I flew from Saigon to Hanoi and back again. I noted down a few theories, but I think I need help on this.

Speed. If I stand up, grab my bags from the overhead compartment before anyone else, block the aisle as fast as my cramp ridden limbs will allow, it'll be me that gets off first. I'll get my luggage first, I'll get my visa stamped first and it'll be me-me-me who is first to race into the arms of my loving family. Yay. Result.

Fear. Is an intense fear of flying suddenly replaced by the euphoria of a successful landing? Only to be immediately replaced by a crack pipe full of paranoia - ie the plane is about to blow up, catch fire and/or run out of oxygen? Whatever. Death is imminent.

Suspension of disbelief. We've landed. For chrissakes, let us off. I mean, how hard is it to open one bloody door?

Exercise. You believe that standing up in a window seat, bending your back and craning your neck around the overhead compartment while simultaneously stamping on the toes of the elderly passenger who remains stubbornly seated next to you and giving her a face full of your crotch is boosting your daily allowance of cardiovascular activity no end.

Needs must. The toilets were blocked shortly after take off and it's been a hellish long flight. (Just what is airline policy in the event of total and irreversible toilet failure, say, on long haul flights? It's an accident waiting to happen.)

Free stuff. Get me out of pleb class fast. I'm after the rich pickings hidden among the upholstered armchairs of Business. Glossy magazines, crisp, fresh newspapers, complimentary overnight cases and superior blankets are all there for the taking. Let me at it ...

I dunno. I suspect it's a speed thing, but that's a nonsense. The last person off the plane is the last person onto the bus and by default the first to drag their battered Samsonite and clink their plastic duty free bags into Arrivals. If there's ever been a case of the tortoise and the hare, the après-air-travel experience is most definitely it. But please, all you rush, rush people, tell me what is the logic here? What am I missing?