There was barely room for us in a certain Houston taxi van. The driver must be living in her vehicle. Other than the back seat and part of the rear luggage area, every square inch of space was packed with necessities and creature comforts. We take a lot of taxis but had never seen one even remotely like this one.
A large case of toiletries sat atop a cooler between the front seats. A brown paper bag of groceries was on the front floor in front of the passenger seat. A flat-screen TV was strapped to the back of the front passenger seat, a coiled antenna cable attached and rabbit ears protruding. In the back seat were stashes of dry cereal, chips, and instant noodles. I saw some bowls and utensils, too. Blankets and pillows were wedged under the third seat, along with what looked like a sleeping bag.
We liked the driver. Still, riding in her “home” felt funny, as if we were invading her private sphere. I know we weren’t really intruding, but taking pictures and posting them probably counts as intrusive. We made an appointment for her to drive us back to the airport the next day. She arrived on time, and we tipped her nicely.