Employee Commuter Vans,

Panties with Wings,

and Unflappable Engineers

A while ago, husband joined a commuter group with his coworkers. The company hired a van to take them to work to save on gas and help limit I-95 traffic congestion. The forty minute trip to and from work became “play time” for the usually serious group of engineers and accountants who rode on the van.

One Halloween they concocted the idea to ride into work wearing the worst masks they could find. Christmas time someone smuggled aboard a pitcher filled with Bloody Marys, and one commuter made up a group of signs that could be held up to the window: “Stop Tailgating;” “Your Signal is Still On” were some of the more mild “directives” they’d put up against the windows to be seen by nearby drivers.

After a few months of commuting together in the van, the group started to play practical jokes on each other.

(Spending a minimum of 80 minutes in a van spawned a group of knuckleheads out of once professional and polite employees.)

Husband being one of the more serious types on the van became the group’s choice as to who they most wanted punked, so to speak. It seemed that whenever anyone tried to play a joke on him it went flat; he just couldn’t be tricked.

So they came up with what they thought was a brilliant idea: One of the women on the van was going to go out and buy a new pair of panties, sexy black lace jobbers and slip it into husband’s attaché case when he wasn’t looking. The idea was he’d be at a meeting and reach in for a file or document and pull out the panties in shock and embarrassment.

Since I was very friendly with the group, I got a phone call that day telling me what they had done to poor husband.

I replied: Don’t be so sure you’re going to get him on this…

The van jokesters were beside themselves with glee and kept a good eye on husband the whole day. Anytime he went near his attaché case they held their breaths waiting to see his expression change; waiting for a laugh or a look of surprise. But it never happened.

At a few minutes before quitting time and the van ride back to the commuter lot, the panty donator finally caved and said: Didn’t you find anything unusual in your attaché case today?

Husband said: “Sort of”, with a wry smile. Then he asked: “How’d you know?”

“Know? How’d I know? I put them there,” she said.

“Oh,” husband replied, I thought they were my wife’s.

(I’d done a massive underwear shopping the day before and he thought that one of the pairs of panties had somehow flown into his attaché case, I guess.)

Since gas prices are so high, companies are starting up more commuter vans and I just wanted unsuspecting wives and husbands to know, that something happens inside of those vans. People get the crazies and don’t be surprised if you find women’s underwear in your man’s attaché case or men’s underwear in your woman’s pocketbook.

Nutty stuff happens on commuter vans. Let this be a warning.

Also, for future reference, it’s pretty hard to fool an engineer because they’ll create a logical reason why a pair of woman’s underwear has appeared in their attaché case.