Packed Like a Van of Sardines

I was headed to Austin on a business trip on dark March morning. I parked at my usual garage where a white utility van shuttles sleepy business travelers to their terminal. I gave the driver my pack to stow in the back, then climbed in across the bench with my carryon and comfortably settled in with four other passengers. I considered for a moment how this situation would be different if I were in Asia but instead of going through the mental exercise, I sprawled out my legs, cracked my complementary copy of USA Today and let the thought escape. The shuttle made another stop to pick up a fifth – and that’s when one of the gentlemen behind me quipped, “Jeez! How many people care they gonna cram in here?!”

The number that immediately came to mind was two. That's when I whipped out my short, plastic stools with cartoon characters on them and mentally placed them around the van: between the driver and shotgun passenger, in the aisle… oh and there was easily enough room for another bench. I proceeded to waive passenger after passenger on, filling every crevice of this monstrous van putting couched passengers on mini stools, sitting on top of other peoples’ bags and up against each other. Benches that were designed to comfortably hold three people were now crammed with five – not counting backpack babies and small animals. By the time I was done I had managed to fit 21 adults, 2 infants and a piglet into my ridiculous-sized American EconoVan. I anticipated the angst and outrage that my fellow passenger would have expressed as I demanded his money. I smirked as I stuffed my pockets with imaginary dollars and waited for an undetermined and uncommunicated number of minutes before I felt like hopping in the driver's seat and whisking my pesky passengers away to their terminal.