You've probably never heard of Torrey, Utah. It's a small town, 171 people according to the 2000 census. It may not be quite the middle of nowhere, but you can see it from here. Torrey consists mainly of a handful of motels, most of them closed for the season. It no doubt owes its continued existence to Capitol Reef National Park, Utah's least-visited national park, eight miles to the east.
The dining options in Torrey are limited. In fact, discounting the "Taco Time" at the Texaco station, the dining options at 7:30 on a Saturday night are precisely two: "Fine Dining Restaurant" at the Best Western, and a pizza place across the street. I idled in the road a moment, trying to decide, then hung a right into the parking lot of the pizza place. I grabbed my book and went inside.
A quick glance around showed me a couple empty tables, but I figured I'd sit at the bar, which is my preference when dining alone. And while scanning the bar for an empty stool I heard:
That's strange, I thought to myself, I could swear I just heard someone say my name. I sure would feel like a fool, looking around to see who said my name in this pizza place in this tiny little town in southern Utah, because clearly I'm not going to know anyone here. I looked around anyway.
And there were Jesse and Dave, two friends from Minnesota. We used to work together at Adobe. With them were three other Adobe folks, Nick, Mike, and Zack. So, I didn't end up sitting at the bar after all.
This is not the first time this has happened to me. Once at a post office in New Zealand I bumped into Matt, we'd gone to college together, I hadn't seen him since graduation. And on Vancouver Island I met Robert, then bumped into him again eight months later on a train in Australia. Small world. Oh, and the reason we all come to Utah, big cliffs: