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Old 12-30-2016, 10:23 AM   #12135
Snakeadelic
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Join Date: May 2015
Posts: 660
In response to the 'small world' conversation, I have a couple of WTF stories I only wish I could illustrate with images.

About 5 years ago, I was in Post Falls, Idaho at a little rock/gem shop, chatting with the owner. He starts talking about how back in the late 70s n early 80s he and friends would save up a few bucks, get a cheap motel room in Lincoln City, Oregon during the week, beachcomb like crazy for a couple of days, and then set up a table near Mo's Restaurant in Taft, the south end of LC. They would sell the shells and agates they'd found to tourists who had not been so lucky at beachcombing, which was a pretty common practice back then. I very innocently ask if he ever remembered seeing a little girl with braids running around with a slightly older boy. He said he did, whereupon I grinned and told him "That was me and Jason. My dad was the head cook at Mo's and Jason's dad was the restaurant manager." Guy almost had a heart attack.

1991 and I'm working at Arby's in Keizer (north Salem), Oregon. We get a new manager in from another store, a fella named Stan Kuchas (pronounced koo-chass). Something about Stan just kept bugging at me, and finally it occurred to me that when I was really little I might not have heard the names of my dad's friends and coworkers quite clearly. So one day I'm slapping sandwiches together and Stan has the register and I ask during a quiet minute if he has kids. Yep, two boys, both in college. I ask if one's name is...Jason. Stan says yes. I ask if Jason's right around 22 years old. He looks up at me through the sandwich slide with these HUGE eyes and asks "Just who the hell are you???" So I ask if he remembers a guy named Rico that used to work at Rustlers Steakhouse in Portland and then Mo's in Taft. Stan says he does. "I'll tell him you say hi if you like. I'm his daughter, the one that used to run all over Taft with Jason while you guys worked together at Mo's." In 1981, for the record. Stan just about hyperventilated; when I was a kid I'd thought his last name was Couch, pronounced "cooch" just like Couch Street in downtown Portland, Oregon.

Most recently, I started a new Twitter account for the express purpose of tracking the professional activities of some of my favorite musicians. No profile pic, no info other than my name. This lady pops up outta nowhere and asks if I'm from Oregon. I check her out...stay-at-home mom of 2, lives in Hawaii, infrequent posts, nothing suspicious, so I answer yep and ask if she is too. She answers with yep, and went to GRADE SCHOOL with a girl who had my same name...in Lincoln City...Oceanlake Elementary...Mr. Augustine's 6th-grade class.

OMFG you guys--she's got me 100% nailed and we have not seen each other since we watched the fucking Challenger explode on live closed-circuit tv, with 3 classrooms of kids around each set! I've been recognized in some weird situations by people I never expected to see or hear from again, but holy shit THE CHALLENGER DISASTER was the last time I'm sure we were in the same airspace!!!

I know it happens to other ppl, but that seems pretty high on the WTF scale.

Last edited by Snakeadelic; 12-30-2016 at 10:24 AM. Reason: Added an important detail.
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