Remember this wonderfully horrific flight I took to Pakistan with my mom three years ago? I was so caught up in relaying the indignity of having my mother play matchmaker while I tried to keep from having a complete mental breakdown on a plane that was bouncing around in a manner that can only be described as dangerous and not right that I failed to mention a bizarre chain of events--and by chain of events, I actually mean two chance meetings--that began on that very plane ride.
I'd noticed a young man waiting in the boarding area with us because, and I'm being totally honest here (so don't hate), I was afraid he was a terrorist. He was traveling alone, which, in a boarding area teeming with families, struck me as suspicious. Moreover, I was already being assaulted by thoughts of every single thing that could go wrong en route to Pakistan (WHAT IF THE DUDE WHO REFUELS THE PLANE IS HOMICIDAL AND CUT A NETWORK OF VITAL WIRES!!!!! Oh fuck!). So, I kept on looking at this guy suspiciously and he kept on looking back (he's onto me being onto him! Oh fuck!). By the time we boarded, however, I was so terrified of, again, the plane crashing, that the cause of our demise didn't really matter and I promptly forgot about the guy.
Fast forward to (something like) day 12 of my 14 day trip. My friend and I are at this mall in Karachi. I'm oohing and aahing over beautifully handstiched diaries when who walks in but the very same guy who I clearly mistook for a dire flight risk. I saw his face light up with recognition; pretending not to notice, I refocused my attention on the diaries, hoping that he wouldn't walk up to me (because I'm like totally horrible in such situations).
He approached me (Oh fuck) and asked me if I'd been on PIA flight XYZ departing from JFK on so and so date. I nodded hoping that I was doing a good job in conveying confusion. Well, he was on that flight, he told me. Really? I asked and when he nodded, I snapped my fingers as if I'd finally placed him! OF COURSE! Yes, I remembered. What a small world. He told me that he'd wanted to talk to me on the flight but didn't think it would be appropriate since I was with my mom. He wondered what I was doing for New Years Eve; I was flying out. He asked me for my number; alas, I didn't know the telephone numbers of any of my relatives and I was hardly at any one place for long enough to take phone calls. He asked me where in town I was staying; I said hell if I knew. He asked me for my email address; I shrugged and gave it to him.
He emailed me a couple of times when we returned home but, for reasons I don't remember, I never replied.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I see that I've received a message on myspace.com (I don't receive many messages on myspace--probably because I never replied to the handful I did receive--so I get very excited when I do see mail in my inbox...is that lame? That's lame, isn't it?) and, lo and behold, it's the same guy. He happened to be cleaning out an old wallet and found the stationary store's card on the back of which I'd written down my name and email address and decided to look me up on myspace. And he found me.
Cue Twilight Zone music...fade out.