Why is it that certain cities seem to go out of their way to scare the crap out of you? In some cities it’s the crime, in other cities it’s the not-so-nice neighborhoods, while other cities can be so incredibly foreign and unfamiliar it can be intimidating. But San Francisco never seems to fail in its attempt to scare me through its unique ability to conjure up the most unlikely coincidences known to man.

    It was San Francisco that first convinced me of the likelihood that my life is indeed fake, a la ‘The Truman Show’, when in November of 2003 I went there to see my new niece, Samantha. For instance, both going there and coming back I saw the same exact people in both airports, boarding the same planes. Now, a year and a half later, San Francisco is going out of its way to provide further proof of The Heather Show.

    First is the tale of the surprising soundtrack. My purpose in flying to California last week was to attend the wedding of one of my best friends, Amber. Before I left, my Mother and I were musing over the fact that, as a 20-year-old Mormon, I’m now theoretically much closer to getting married myself. I laughed and said, “I don’t know, I don’t think I’m going to get that serious about it unless the clouds part, a chorus of angels starts singing, and God suddenly booms from the heavens, ‘This is the one! Get married!'”

    You’d think that sort of joke would be safe, right? Cause really, what are the odds? Take it from me, don’t tempt God about silly things like this. When I arrived on Wednesday, I was met at the airport by my friend Ed, a charming gentleman who lives in San Francisco. We met online ages ago and he kindly agreed to help me out with taking photos at Amber’s wedding. So I met Ed in baggage claim, then Amber and her beau, Chase, picked us up in their rental car. We went straight from the airport to the Mormon temple in Oakland so we could stake out great photo locations in preparation for the wedding on Friday.

    After traveling for something like 7 hours, I wanted to change into some fresh clothes. I walked into the Temple visitor’s center and went straight to the ladies room to get changed. When I came out of the door, Ed was in my direct line of sight. Just as I started to walk toward him the strangest sound met my ears. A chorus of angels was growing progressively louder.

    Suddenly the words I told to my Mother flashed into my brain and I started to panic a little. I swear, I thought I was hearing things. I tried to gingerly look about the room to see if I was missing something, cautiously checking that no clouds were parting. I couldn’t see anything and yet the chorus kept right on singing. By the time I got to Ed on the opposite side of the room I couldn’t hold it in any longer, the nervous laughter just started spilling out. I thought I was losing my mind!

    That’s when Ed told me that my timing was perfect and the Mormon missionaries had just started a presentation in the lobby about Jesus Christ. Naturally this presentation starts with a lovely heavenly chorus. My timing was just a wee bit too perfect. I’m now officially frightened. Who would have ever thought a heavenly chorus could have inspired such panic.

    Fast forward to Saturday night. Wedding’s done, Amber’s off on her honeymoon, and I finally have a chance to relax. I head off to Union Square, where I’ll be meeting Ed, his friend Piya, and maybe his friend Joni, all of whom go to the same art school. Beforehand Ed told me there was a slight chance Joni wouldn’t be able to make it, which would be disappointing since I’d heard so much about her. Sure enough, Joni was unable to make it, but that meant I got to meet Piya’s lovely friend Bonnie. We all went out for sushi (first time for me) and a fun time was had by all. (I even ate raw fish! So proud of myself.)

    After dinner, Piya and Bonnie unfortunately had to leave to attend Easter Mass, but they decided to keep us company on a bus toward Little Italy. We’d been planning on getting gelato for months, it was just too bad they couldn’t stick around for the ice cream.

    We took one of two possible bus lines, if I remember correctly, then transferred to another bus at some point. It was on this second bus that the producers of The Heather Show decided to throw us another curve ball. Ed and I got into the bus first, and even though there were free seats near the front, for some reason we kept on walking toward the back of the bus. Just as we sat down, Piya looked at Ed and said, “Don’t you recognize the face two seats behind you?”

    Three guesses as to who just happened to catch the same bus at random that we did and was seated directly behind us. If you guessed Joni than you win a prize. What are the odds?! We spun around and saw her smiling at us, so Ed got to introduce me to Joni as I was immersed in a wave of surrealism.

    There were several other odd coincidences that entire weekend, but this blog’s getting pretty long. But I can’t end it without telling you about what happened on the way home. My ticket home routed me through Dallas, on the last flight to DC that night. One of my closest internet friends, David, lives right there in Dallas and I’ve been wanting to meet him for years, but never really had the chance. Before I left, I secretly wished that I could have arranged my flights so I’d have a longer layover, thus enabling me to at least meet up with David for an hour or two. Apparently someone heard that silent wish.

    I arrived in Dallas at 8:00 Monday evening. Immediately I raced to the check-in counter for my next flight and asked how full of a flight to expect. The nice gentleman at the counter told me that it was oversold by seven seats. Suppressing an urge to let out a happy dance, I was the first person to volunteer to give up my seat and spend the night in Dallas. In exchange for this sacrifice, they’d give me a $300 travel voucher, a free hotel room, and the perfect chance to meet a great friend.

    I had to wait until everyone else was on the plane at 9:21pm before I’d know whether or not my little plan would work. By 9:15pm, the gate agents – two women at the end of their shifts – happily informed me that they’d most likely need my seat. There was only one seat, and the man who was supposed to occupy it was stuck in customs. If he showed up, I’d get to meet David; if he didn’t, I’d have to go home.

    We waited. And waited. Finally, at 9:25pm, the gate agents looked at me, told me they’d have to put me on the plane, but thanked me for volunteering anyway. I was disappointed, but thank goodness I thought to say, “Well, you’re welcome, but this wasn’t entirely selfless.” They looked up at me and said, “Ooh?” I explained that I was hoping to meet a friend in Dallas. One of the ladies smiled, squealed, and said, “Ooooo! Is it a boy?!” When I said yes, she started giggling. She grabbed the PA com and said, “Paging Michael Barrilus, please come to gate C25, Michael Barrilus.” She winked at me and the other gate agent started giggling as well.

    Technically I didn’t lie. David is a boy, or rather, a man. While I did smile when I said yes, I didn’t tell them that this boy is 38-years-old and just a really close friend. But they were so enthralled with the romantic notion that I didn’t want to spoil it for them. They started asking me about him and soon we had delayed the plane and everyone on board, all in the name of love.

    After fifteen minutes and 7 more attempts at paging Michael Barrilus, they looked nervously at their watches and sighed, “Legally we can’t hold the plane anymore. I’m sorry, but it looks like you won’t get to see your boy.” Just as those words escaped their lips, a man came racing up to the gate. One of the ladies smiled and said, “Are you on this plane, sir?!” When he said yes, all three of us exploded with glee. While one lady checked his boarding pass and escorted him to the jetway, the other lady was laughing and clapping her hands. I’m sure Mr. Barrilus must have felt very special, thinking that these ladies were just so happy for him that he made it to his flight in time. If only he knew. 🙂

    When both of them had stopped dancing and giggling, they began issuing my travel voucher and booking me on a flight for the following day. The one lady who had been giggling profusely went to the computer to arrange my hotel, but before she got started, she looked up at me, winked, and said, “Gee, do you need a hotel?” I laughed and explained that I didn’t know him that well, and thanked them for their patience and enthusiasm. They said it was the best way they’d ever ended their shift.

    So thanks to the kindness and romanticism of two American Airlines employees, I was able to spend several hours at IHOP with David. I have to say, waffles at midnight provide great ambience for getting to know someone. Even though I think David knows more about me than most anyone, there’s still something nice about matching words to a face and body language. And to think, it wouldn’t have been possible without two gate agents and some bloke named Michael Barrilus.

    The entire trip was fabulous, despite the oddity of all these random coincidences. In fact, now that I’m home, I’m starting to think fate is trying to tell me I never should have left – these coincidences are still following me around, although unfortunately they aren’t quite as happy as the heavenly chorus, the friend on the bus, or the boy in Dallas. Yesterday I was driving my brother to school when I saw a car with what looked like a loose tire. I thought to myself, “Gee, I’m glad I’m in a BMW with nice tires, because if I ever had to change a flat, I sure wouldn’t know what to do. That’d really suck.” What happens? Two hours later, I’m driving around with Stephen, I hit a gigantic pot hole, and my tire blows. Two hours after that, someone finally shows up to help us change the tire, since our wrench wasn’t working. Two hours after that, I narrowly avoid an accident when a truck pulls out in front of me on a highway, and then stops. That’s when I think to myself, “Gee, after sitting on the pavement, freezing in the wind waiting for someone to change my tire, getting into an accident would really suck.”

    Within the hour, my brakes decide to go screwy on that same wheel and I rear-end a car while trying to merge onto a major highway. Thankfully the car in front of me wasn’t damaged at all, I didn’t even get a ticket, but sadly I felt a bit whiplashed and I crunched the front of my Father’s car. Fun. Another BMW grille bites the dust on my watch and I’m haunted by the memories of yet another afternoon of strange coincidences. At least in San Francisco the coincidences were comical, entertaining, and rather fun. Here, not so much. You have no idea how tempting it is to use that $300 voucher to run away from the bad karma of Washington, DC. I could handle the random friends, the angel bands, and the nice men in Texas. But really, who couldn’t? 🙂