For me, it was a long talk I had with a random person on Omegle when that was a thing. I was bored one night so I decided to give it a try and I was matched with someone who I had nearly a 2 hour conversation with. We told jokes, told each other about ourselves, and talked like we were lifelong friends. But, we never did tell each other our names. I could’ve talked to this person all night but the interaction turned for the worst near the end. The person was depressed from what I gathered and the depression arose and the conversation fizzled out. I still think about them nearly 6 years later and hope that they are doing good whoever they were.
I used to live in downtown Oakland, notoriously not the safest city. I was stumbling home from a night of drinking around 3am one morning, and this guy on a bike rolled up on me out of nowhere and he just goes “hey man, you scared of black people?” He was an older black man that appeared to be disheveled and possibly living on the street, and I legit just laughed and was like, no, I grew up in a city, and I live here, so no, not at all haha. And he just goes, “Alright. You have a good night.” and he rode off.
Like 5 years later, I’m waiting for my bus one morning to go to work, and the exact same thing happens. Rolls up on a bike and asks me if I’m scared of black people. Again, I say no, kind of being like dude leave me alone not this again, and he replies “I know you’re not. I remember you. Have a great morning.” He shook my hand and rolled off, never saw him again. Just such an odd experience haha.
Time traveler making sure his changes stuck.
The other timeline is… not so good.
Reminds me of a time I was sitting outside enjoying my high, staring out into the night. Suddenly, a smile appeared directly in my gaze, floating in the darkness- I squinted and noticed the smile belonged to a black man looking back at me, who said “couldn’t see me til I smiled, huh?”
Was riding my motorcycle up to the races at Laguna Seca in Monterey. As a photographer I had all my gear on the bike. Everything, it was packed. It is a sportbike so I didn’t have a lot of luggage. Just a tankbag that was filled to the top, and a backpack I had strapped to the rear seat, which is pretty tiny. Anyway on the way up the 101 I come across another motorcycle who pulls onto the interstate and up next to me. We ride for a while, and then as we get to an exit he motions for me to pull off and points to his tank. I decided that was a good time to get gas myself so I peeled in behind him. We get to the station and he takes off his helmet and he’s definitely in his 70’s or 80’s. I was in my mid 30’s at the time so it was cool to see an older rider. We were filling up our bikes and he asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee and I said sure. So we went inside and started talking, and he too was heading up to Laguna Seca for the races. He asked if I had ridden the 1 up to Monterey and I said that I hadn’t. He insisted that it was something you don’t want to miss. I explained that I had to pick up my press pass and was on a little bit of a schedule. We finished our cups (I had oj) and walked back out to the bikes. He said if I wanted to ride with him it was cool and that he was taking the cutoff over to the 1 and would be taking that exit. We hit the road and miles passed. I saw him point to the exit over to the 1, and move over. I waved to him and pointed straight ahead. I was just going to ‘get there’. He nodded his head and headed off the exit. As I was right at the end of the exit something in my head said ‘screw it’, and I jammed on the brakes and whipped over. When I got to the stop at the end of the exit he looked over and pulled up his visor and yelled “you changed your mind?” I nodded and away we went.
It was a beautiful ride, and we stopped again to get gas and were chatting again. We decided that we would stop up the road at a place he knew to eat. We then commented about each other’s bikes and for some reason we decided to swap bikes. I get on his bike, and he hops on mine, and away we go. About 2 miles down the road I am sitting there following him and had a realization… Everything I have is on my bike. Wallet, phone, camera equipment, clothes, etc. I started thinking, my bike is a lot faster than his bike and if he were to take off, I wouldn’t have any way of catching him. Then it occurred to me that I don’t even know his name. I could just imagine getting pulled over on his bike and trying to explain to the cops that this old guy let me borrow it, and then not being able to even tell them his name. I calmed back down and just got back into the ride and we swapped who led a couple of times. The view was/is absolutely spectacular so that kept my mind from going into overdrive. We got to the place to have lunch and pulled over. We both talked about the nice parts about each other’s bikes and we went in and he bought me lunch. We also exchanged names. I explained that when we got into Monterey I had to go over to a certain hotel to pick up my credentials. He was heading over to his hotel and then going to the track. We both hopped back on our own bikes and took off. When we got into Monterey we came to an intersection and I had to go one way and he went the other. We waved to each other and that was it. I really wish I could remember his name, but over time it has been lost in my mind. I think about him every once in a while and wonder things like what ever happened to him. I would guess he has passed by now, but think it would be cool to have one more chat and a quick ride on each other’s bikes if he was still around and riding. I just hope that one day some young kid remembers me as that old guy on the motorcycle.
I was in Nashville for a business trip, and I was trying to figure out where I could get a pack of smokes. I see an old security guard smoking, so I figure he might have an idea. He ended up giving me and my wife a smoke to “hold us over till then”, and then started talking about the yearly floods, and how Magic Johnson bought this building and how he got his unusual name. ( Which is honest to God on his birth certificate)
I will never forget you, Tiny.
when i was young, i was in a bad car accident where i had a head injury. someone stopped and held a shirt against my head and held my hand till the ambulance got there. I’ll never meet them, but I’ll never forget it.
You might be able to get their name from the accident’s police report.
A day or three after Hurricane Ivan finds me (white), my two roommates (white and Taiwanese) and a stranger (black) from around the corner playing cards on the porch. No power or water, it was all we had to do.
Black guy keeps getting us white guys mixed up. He gets our names wrong again and the other white guy says, “I’m John, he’s Jules.”
This guy is stumbling over himself apologizing and I cut him off, “It’s all good! I know we white people all look alike to y’all.”
An intense 2.54 seconds follows while everyone looks around the table to see if it’s OK to laugh. Then we just started howling. Whew.
I was flying from Calgary to Phoenix to visit family and it was a later flight, but still pretty packed. They were getting ready to close the plane and leave the gate and the seat next to me was still empty! I was stoked! When all of a sudden this lady came busting into the plane, she made it with seconds to spare. I’m watching her walk down the aisle and of course she ends up sitting next to me. Oh well. I put my headphones on and stared out the window while the plane takes off.
After a bit my album ended and I went to get a snack out of my bag. Now, when the lady had sat down she immediately put her head in her hands and just stayed that way till she could put the tray down, then she rested her head on her arms. You could just tell she was so torn up and sad. So I got my snack (chocolate covered blueberries) and she sat up a bit, so I offered her some. Well, that started a conversation I will never forget as long as I live. We both were in these crazy situations that were so alike, it was uncanny. And that no one in our normal lives really could understand or help with. Yet there we were, able to be that comfort and support we so desperately needed. We talked nonstop for the rest of the trip. The rest of the plane vanished and we were in our own zone.
When we landed we walked through the airport together to get our luggage and parted ways at the baggage carousel. We didn’t get each others numbers, just a hug and a thank you. I hope she’s doing ok. Sometimes the universe puts you exactly where you need to be, like it did for us that night. Thank you lady from 32B, I will never forget you.
I was in Japan with my Fiance pre-covid and we were traveling from Ueno to Harajuku. It was early-ish morning and the train was pretty full by the time this woman who seemed to be in the elder age range was standing in front of me. Where I come from it’s just polite to offer your seat to people who are older, so I did just that. For context, I speak enough Japanese to maybe converse with a 5 year old. We had a little exchange that went kind of like, “please take my seat” -> “oh no, I couldn’t” -> “I’m getting off soon” … that eventually ended with us sitting next to each other.
She was surprised to learn that I didn’t speak Japanese fluently after I felt like I was struggling through a few simple conversations about the weather. And I wish I could remember what she said, but it ended up with her saying something like it’s ok because we understand each other, “hearto to hearto”. And she placed her hands over her heart and then over mine. Goddamn, that was the most anime moment in my life and nothing is going to live up to that memory.
Sitting in the window seat on a flight to work in Florida. The sun was setting and the sky was gorgeous. Full flight.
The lady next to me was somewhat disheveled and sad. Noticed the ankle bracelet and that she didn’t speak English with the flight attendant when trying to ask for help.
She noticed me marveling at the display outside and said “beauty”. A ‘no engles’ and a ‘no Espanol’ later, we fumble through enjoying a sunset together. Just two humans traveling together to very separate destinations. She cried. I cried. Used Google translate to say “sorry we make this difficult for you. I hope for the best”
The flight home was another gorgeous and full sunset flight. Another lady sitting next to me, both soaking in the beauty. She was a little older with what seemed to be her husband, both dressed to a T.
A ‘no engles’ and a ‘no Espanol’ later, we fumble through enjoying a sunset together. Just two humans traveling together to somewhat similar destinations.
Such a beautifull tragic things humans can be.
One time I was biking and someone coming the other way smiled at me. There was nothing to the interaction beyond that few seconds but somehow it was just such a powerful smile it made my whole week and I still remember it.
I grew up in Honolulu, and every once in a while there would be a tsunami warning. I don’t know how old I was—I would guess 6 years old, give or take a couple of years—but during one tsunami warning my parents drove up a ridge and parked on the side of the road to wait it out. We had a VW Vanagon, and I remember sitting in the van playing with toys to pass the time. At some point, a girl around my age joined me in the van. Her parents had the same idea as mine, and I guess they invited her to play with me while we all waited.
I’m in my 40s now. I still think about that girl from time to time.
Slow day at work, called a Dell support rep to deal with some equipment that needed to be replaced and ended up talking with them for 2 hrs. I think they must’ve been bored too because I remember telling them directly that we could end the call or keep talking if they wanted. They not only were comfortable with it but said they’ve never just chatted with someone.
Same idea as OP, it was like catching up with an old friend.
Ha, interesting question, really cool answers all around.
For me, it was many years ago when I went with a friend to visit a common friend that was studying in Vermont (we 3 are from Europe), and using the occasion we went to visit new York as well. One night we went to have a walk around Times Square and took the subway to get there. I was just standing there checking out the map to keep myself busy when this huge black guy wearing an even bigger fur coat that was sitting started talking to me and asking where I was going and if I needed help.
At first I awkwardly said that I didn’t need any help, I was just looking at the map to keep busy. He insisted asking where I was going, to which I answered to have a stroll around times square. He got quite cheerful and said he was going in the same direction and he knew a shortcut. At that point I got a bit suspicious but the guy said changing the train we would get there faster, I confirmed that indeed the other train was going in that direction and he told us to follow him. Despite my suspicion as long as there was plenty of people around I decided to trust him and go with him.
After the change of train he told me he knew another trick about that station, everyone was going to the normal stairs but he told us if we go a bit further we can avoid those stairs. He took us to an escalator that took us into an exit straight at Times square.
In the meantime we started talking with him, he told us he was going that night to have a guy’s night out with his friends and they were going to Atlantic City. He started telling us about his life, he was a music editor, and was married, and loved to help people visiting new York. By the time we got out into the street it felt like we were quite close friends and we stayed there a bit still talking, he was one of the nicest random people I have ever met, we took a photo together and he gave me his contact card in case I ever returned to NY (which I didn’t).
I’ve thought about him ever since and wondered how he was doing. It’s a great memory I have of such a simple random encounter.
I met a somewhat old man on a Greyhound a few years ago who was pretty delirious and drifting in and out of sleep. Turns out he had been traveling non-stop for three days, heading from Georgia to his home in Oakland. He had been on a roadtrip with his friends in (what he described as) a cursed Mitsubishi which broke down a final time some 2500 miles from home. All his friends took flights back, but our protagonist did not bring any kind of ID with him and couldn’t take a plane. So there he was, having not slept much at all in 3 days, on the i-10 between Tucson and Phoenix.
He also borrowed my phone to call his wife, who it seemed had not sanctioned his roadtrip at all and was very mad at him. She eventually hung up on him. Handing my phone back to me, he assured me that she wouldn’t stay mad at him after seeing his baby-blue eyes upon his arrival in Oakland.I don’t remember so many of the details, but hearing this guy’s life story and about his impulsive cross-country roadtrip was kinda strangely inspiring.
My mom adopting me.
If you don’t mind sharing, I would love to hear your memories of that.
My earliest memory is from when I was five because my memory isn’t very reliable, but I can tell you a bit of what happened before that based on the things I was told.
There was some kind of medical condition that would run in my family. My birth parents, which included my mom who was in her 20’s and my dad who was in his 60’s, met because they were nuclear testing refugees and settled in a separate territory. They wanted kids but every time they’d have one, they’d notice the medical condition (which is said to be what later manifested in me in another way) take hold and got paranoid and probably had all seven of us because of that out of fear that too few would mean everyone would succumb to it, me being the youngest of seven sisters, a trait my birth mother also had. After me, they succumbed to the (still unclear) medical condition, it was some seemingly uncharted strand of the Epstein-Barr virus and it would manifest similar to the sleeping sickness. They’re didn’t die, just became not responsive to everyday contact.
There were different circumstances surrounding me and my sisters, so while I was adopted by a single adoptive mother, who is the foster sister of my birth grandfather (she actually wasn’t even from the same culture so it counted as an interracial adoption) and took advantage of his unisex name to rename me after him (many people don’t get the unisex memo though, they hear my name and wrongly automatically think “male”), they were adopted by a single adoptive father who then married my adoptive mother, making them my step-sisters as well (the reason I have one last name and they have others), something I’m simultaneously super grateful for as well as regret feeling distanced due to. We then moved to the US because there were no schools in the area in the Pacific where we were and because the same grandfather (whose home I inherited two years ago and who I had the biggest bond with) lived there.
*they, not they’re
Maybe not the strangest but here are 2 from my vacation to London last month:
2 women walking past. One of them says:
“I talk a lot of shit, but my fart is bigger than my shit.”
Then in Covent Garden I met a very polite drug dealer:
Excuse me, do you need any weed or coke? No, well then have a very good evening.
Nice guy, big smile.
