Big Country, Small World

I have the craziest story.  On day two of my trip in Russia, I was aboard a train going from Vladivostok to Slyudanka, a trip that totaled 69 hours.  On this trip I met a Korean guy who spoke English.  We became friends and we exchanged contact info.  This man was interviewing people along his trip and asking them about their travels and dreams.  I was one of his interviewees.

This man was getting off the train in Irkutsk, the stop after mine.  We said our goodbyes when I left the train, and I hadn't heard from him since.

Later on, I went to Olkhon Island on Lake Baikal.  On the island, I met another Korean traveler.  We enchanged info and we kept in touch via email.

Since coming back I realized I hadn't heard from my train friend.  I looked though my social media and I realized that we exchanged info but never connected.  I sent him a message using the email I had written down.

He responded and told me that he had lost my contact info along the trip.  But then he told me he had heard about me when he was in Moscow and then proceeded to ask me if I had visited Olkhon Island.  I said, "Wait, you heard ABOUT me?   And yes I did, how did you know?"  He told me he met a Korean man in Moscow that he decided to interview and after talking they both concluded that they had met me.  They had both met me separately, and then managed to met each other and deduce that they had both met me.  In Russia.  The biggest country on earth.  

Big country, small world.

Let me preface this by saying that I had a crazy busy week.  I worked a full week and then was out late every night due to trying to see people before I leave.  So when I had to get up at 4am on Friday after not getting to bed until 2am, I was a little disoriented.  When I left my house and set sail on my 6-hour-long journey, little did I know that, in my disheveled state, I had forgotten my wallet and my phone charger.

After about two hours on the road, I started to think about pulling over for some coffee and some gasoline.  I glanced around for my wallet, and there was no sign of it.  Instinctively, I knew.  I didn't have it.  Panic struck.

My first thought was to just drive and drive until I ran out of gas.  Then I could call my sister to help me out.  But she might have to drive over an hour to reach me, as there was no way I could travel another 4 hours on the gas that I had.  So I brainstormed until I realized that I have a retired father whose sole purpose in life is to bail out his crazy daughters whenever they get into desperate situations.  Lucky me.

I had another problem to face as well.  There is a toll on the Beacon bridge that I knew I had to pass through.  With no cash, no pennies to my name I started to get paranoid.  I was driving without a license.  Would they ask to see it?  Would they ticket me because I couldn't produce it?  Panic.  Panic again.

I drove silently in my car waiting until a reasonable hour before calling my dad to see if I could meet him in Danbury for some refuel.  At 7.45 I could not longer stand the anticipation.  My phone was dying and I figured it was a reasonable hour considering that until two weeks prior the man had been getting up at 5.30am, consistently for 35 years.  Turns out retirement is a funny thing.  It reverts you back into the good old teenage days of sleeping all day, or so I get the feeling as my father groggily answers the phone.  "Yeah?" "Did I wake you?" "Kinda."

Regardless, the plan to meet my father was underway and I had just enough gas to make it.  Just enough.  But now I had another problem to face.  The toll booth.  And the only way out was through.

I get to the toll booth and I am redirected into the parking lot on the side.  I am told to go into the office.  I go in a try and explain my situation.  I fill out the form to have a bill sent to me.  Then, the ticket booth lady walks over to her purse, pulls out a five dollar bill and hands it to me.  'In case you get desperate," she says.  I try and assure her I'll be fine but she insists I take it.  There is good in this world.