I still don’t understand all the reasons for such chance encounters, but I do have a theory in addition to my belief that such “coincidences” remind us that wonder and mystery still occur in our wired world.
The reason for the chance meeting with Bruce in Boston may be as simple as this: It makes you aware of the value of your friends.
Good friends don’t change over time. Or rather they may change, but your friendship doesn’t because you find you can pick up right where you left off even if that was a decade or more ago. In particular, friends with whom you travel share a unique bond. You experienced something together that is forged between you and is deeply imprinted on your hearts and minds.
Such was the case with Bruce: all we have to do is see each other after 15 years and immediately all the old shared stories and experiences together come flooding right back.
Such also was the case with my friend Mark. Other than the periodic Christmas card, I haven’t connected with Mark since we were in college together. And then one day several weeks ago, out of the blue he calls. We chat and within minutes we’re telling old stories and updating each other on the highlights of life since graduation.
Of course, it didn’t take long for one particular subject to come up, one that formed a bond between us many years ago and sustains that bond to this day: trolls.
You read that right. Trolls. I’m not talking about Grimms Fairy Tales here. No sirree. The real thing.
Or so we like to tell ourselves.
When I was a junior in college, I was about to begin the spring semester studying in Germany. Mark was already over in Vienna, Austria at a university there. So I took a week in early February and visited Mark and other friends in Vienna.
Mark and I had one long afternoon together that started as a quest for the best apple strudel in Vienna and ended in something rather unexpected. After all, who goes to Austria expecting trolls?
We’d already visited three or four cafés and bakeries in our quest and all were good. But you get mighty thirsty consuming all those pastries, so we were washing down our tasty treats with a good deal of beverages. I’m sure there’s some law of thermodynamics or something that states that the human body will have the need to eliminate excess liquids at the very point in time when restrooms are least likely to be available.
So there we were, hunting for a restroom when we gratefully spied the two letters that, to us, spelled relief: WC (for Water Closet). Curiously, the sign hovered above some stairs that led down, down, down, under a busy Viennese boulevard. Rather ominous we thought, but when you gotta go…
We made our way into the shadowy depths to find a 1920’s era restroom. But you don’t worry about décor when you need relief. So we rushed over to the row of urinals and…I’ll spare you the details except to tell you this:
As we’re standing there “making our bladders gladder” as they say, we heard this voice. We didn’t think anyone else was in the restroom and no one followed us down the stairs. And yet, at that moment – that rather vulnerable moment – we realized we were not alone.