I mentioned Dr. Nathaniel Horne in my Ground-Breaking News post. I believe Nathaniel was a resident at UCDMC when I was treated there for necrotizing fasciitis in 1998. He performed a skin graft or two on my affected leg and we got along nicely…
Fast forward to 2003 and the Salisburys are on the north shore of Oahu for Emma’s 18th birthday. Emma wanted a surfing lesson, so we got her one in Haleiwa. The class paddled out and I sat on the beach photographing everyone. About an hour into the lesson, a young man with a hat and su glasses walked up and sat down behind me and to the right. He yelled “great ride, babe” to a young woman in Emma’s class. So, I said,” I’m taking photos, so if you would like, I can eMail them to you.” He was grateful and struck up a conversation.
After a few moments, we realized that we were old pals. I had a towel covering my grafted leg, so I pulled it off and Nathaniel showed me the graft he did. We had a grand time catching up and parted ways… I sent his photos off via eMail. Imagine our surprise when we bumped into he and his girlfriend, yet again, at the airport in Honolulu! We left for Sacramento and they were off for Connecticut.
Have you ever bumped into a friend, thousands of miles from home? Tell me about it.
My father would’ve loved the Dr. story. He was always one, whenever we traveled, to say, “Whadaya wanna bet I’m going to see someone I know?” He often did see previously known folk, and if he didn’t, he would get into such involved converstations with perfect strangers, that he felt it “counted”.
I have one story, not as miraculous as your own, but you asked.
The first encounter reveals the sort of shallow, flirtatious, annoying person I used to be. (Before Jesus and Tim.) In the mid-70’s, I was wandering around a “Day-on-the-Green”, (those hot, noisy, dangerous, arm-pits-in-your-face events in Oakland) Peter Frampton, I think. If I saw a cute guy, I would brazenly walk up to him and ask if I could take a picture, explaining that I took pictures of cute guys. I probably even said “foxy guys”, to complete the sickening picture you’re forming of me. I went home and put the developed pics in my acid-filled photo-album, with the couple walking on the beach on the front. However, the guys sort of lost the allure they had at the concert once in the album, and I never could work up the enthusiasm I’d had looking at them at the concert, so I rarely got them out.
Anyhoo, years later, I was at Sugarbowl, soaking up rays on the deck. I saw this guy wearing a beanie, and it hit me, “He’s one of my foxy-guy collection at home!” I approached him and asked if he’d been at that particular Day-on-the-Green, and sho-nuff, he was there. Yes, he was OK-looking, but didn’t hold a candle to my Timmy John.
I love hearing stories of running into someone you know miles and miles away from home. Yours is a good one Bo, in Hawaii. When I was in Europe, in ’92 (poor Scotty stayed home!) I had a few “run-ins”. The first was in Cambridge, England. My friend and I were staying at a hostel. We were about to head out for some bangers and mash and were about to go down the narrow stairway but 3 guys were coming up so we waited. The 3rd guy was Scott’s roommate from Santa Ana!! What a surprise. The next 2 run-ins were in Italy. I was touring the Coliseum and ran into 3 band members from Los Lobos!! The first thing that came out of my mouth to them was “hey, I’m from Whittier!!” Not sure they were that impressed but I was! And later in Florence, my friend and I were trying to find a restaurant for dinner and I ran into one of my colleges from art school!! Small world, eh?
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Great example, Diane!
Bangers and mash… ummmmmmmmmm (in a Homer Simpson voice). It’s right up there with “bubble and squeak.” How anyone can complain about English cooking, I don’t know.