We're all packed to leave Hawaii. It's evening, and we're leaving in the morning. We're just about to go to the beach for the last time before we leave. I ask, what time do we have to leave in the morning? My brother Steve answers, our flight is at 6am. Wow, that's early. It's 7pm now, but not too late to go for a night swim! We should hurry!

Now I'm looking around for my duffel bag, which contains my swimming gear. Everything is packed and stacked, but it is here somewhere. As I'm looking, I start telling a story to someone who is nearby, also packing, or looking for their things.

"I spent part of my childhood in New Zealand," I say.

They answer with a question about my childhood, which I defer.

"Anyway, that's not the point. When we went there in 1983, my dad looked up the dimensions of allowed carryon, and had boxes built to exactly those dimensions. And the same for the allowed size of luggage. There were 13 of us traveling, who were allowed two each of each box. So we were traveling with 26 of each type of box, a total of 52 boxes. That was a lot of luggage."

(All those details are accurate)