I was once driving in Princeton’s Forrestal Village. On the radio was an ad for some nightclub or the like. I looked up and saw that exact nightclub right in front of me. (It wasn’t a chain or anything - it was the only location.)
No kidding-- Two of the main players were named “Ironworker” and “Steel”. Though admittedly the “Steel” was an assumed name.
The summer that one of the Harry Potter books came out, I was one of many people on the library’s waiting list. That weekend happened to be the town’s annual arts festival, so I was walking there, and I was almost at the park when my phone rang. Which put me right on the sidewalk directly in front of the library when I was told that it was my turn on the waiting list. “OK, I’ll be right in to pick it up”.
s j r.
A man’s wife cuts of his penis while he sleeps. His name is John Wayne Bobbitt.
You have a time machine?
The 2004 Boston Red Sox. Down 3 games to zero in the ALCS, behind in the 9th inning, ONE OUT away from total elimination … they come back to win the game, the series (first team in MLB to ever come from so far behind), and the World Series. It literally was MORE dramatic than any movie about baseball could’ve been.
Well, doormats for a decade, anyway. Only a handful of losing seasons 1970-90.
I’ll do you one better on that.
At the time, I had a kid who was a big Yankees fan. When the Yankees went up 2-0 he was pumped, and I teased him about how it was all a strategy by the Red Sox to get the Yankees psyched out. “They are going to lose the next game and then be down 9-0 in the ninth inning of game 4. That’s when their plan kicks into effect. Then they will rally to win that game and win the next three to take the series.”
That was done in a completely jocular mode, of course. But it pretty much hit the target against staggering odds. (Game 4 wasn’t nearly a 9-0 lead in the ninth, but it did come down to the RS trailing with one out from elimination, as you note.)
I took a red eye from California to a small regional airport in Ohio (for job interview). Walking to baggage claim I ran into a co-worker from CA; her dad had died suddenly and she hopped the first available flight (mine).
The following plot for a WWII-era movie would’ve been rejected by Hollywood as grossly improbable:
A newly commissioned U.S. submarine is on preliminary maneuvers off the eastern coast in the 1930s when disaster strikes, seawater rushes in and the sub sinks to the bottom. Its sister sub attempting to locate it heads the wrong way thanks to an incorrect position report, but a lookout happens to glance in the opposite direction and spots a distress signal, leading to what became the most successful rescue operation in submarine history.
Fast forward several years, WWII is on, and the sunken sub (raised, refitted and renamed) is in action against the Japanese in the Pacific. It becomes the first sub to sink an enemy aircraft carrier. Ironically, the carrier has on board 21 imprisoned sailors from the American sister sub involved in the rescue of the attacking sub years earlier. Nearly all of the prisoners die as a result of the torpedo attack.
All this actually happened.
My car has an outside temperature readout above the odometer. This past winter, the temperature outside was 44, and my odometer read 44,444 :eek:
Ah, so you were trying to interview surreptitiously, and a co-worker showed up?
Hmmm…
“I’m here for my dad’s funeral, but what are YOU doing in Defiance, Ohio?”
“Ummm, I come here most Thursdays… for the, ummm…blackberry coffee cake at Lester’s Truck Stop, yeah…”
A friend of mine and fellow faculty member was passing thru London one summer. He had limited time there. He decided to get up extra early and to be in line at the British Museum to get in when it opens.
Also in line that morning was another member of our department who was also thinking the same thing.
They spotted each other easily since they were the two tallest people in our department.
After many years of caregiving for a loved one who out weighed me substantially, my body began to have some issues. I ignored it till it became debilitating, then went to the Dr for assessment.
We’d been doing an emergency room style transfer, lift and slide, and my joints were screaming after more than 5 yrs.
The Dr’s diagnosis was that I had both tennis elbow and golf elbow at the same time.
But I don’t play tennis. Or golf. And my screen name is Elbows!
Honestly, half of these are stuff that happens all the time- I mean, I’ve bumped into people I know from England in: Christchurch New Zealand (that was pretty funny, I bumped into 2 of my old classmates, who were walking down the street talking about our old class and wondering how everyone was getting on); Ubud, Bali; Melbourne, Australia… and bumped into several people I originally met in Australia in Bristol, England.
In fact, last year I bumped into an Aussie guy I’d previously met in Brisbane, on my street in Bristol. His Mum, who I also met in Brisbane, used to live just a few miles from my parents’ house in Northern England, and used to go to the health food shop next door to our old house.
The world just isn’t quite as big as you’d think, really.
We vacation in St Martin every winter. One year we went to one of our favorite restaurants (Tutta Pasta) and discovered there’d be a wait for a table. We went to the tiny bar and ordered drinks.
Also waiting for a table was a couple from Maine, Jack & Diane (no relation). We started talking with them and we all really hit it off. When the owner came to tell them their table was ready, they suggested we dine together, and we had a very cool night.
The following year we returned to the same restaurant, and waiting for a table were Jack & Diane (no relation). We dined together again.
I was amazed at the coincidence, until my gf pointed out that we went to St Martin the same two weeks each year, and Jack & Diane (no relation), owning a timeshare, also were there the same time each year.
Ah, but manson1972, were you passing through Newton Falls, OH at the time?
Then there’s the incident of six cows being killed by a woman named Daisy Cowit.
I’m imagining a scenario where if, in 1978, I pitched a sequel to the movie Network in which mad newscaster Howard Beale ran for a President and won because he inspired the nation with his rage-filled rants. I think it would have been struck down as being too over the top to be believable.
And here we are.