Those are great stories, Skybird!
Here's one of my own, or rather my stepmother's. She grew up in Chicago, became a stewardess for United Airlines, who moved her to Los Angeles where she met my dad.
While she still lived in Chicago she tried to call an old college friend, who now lived in LA. As soon as the phone was answered she knew she had the wrong number. It wasn't her friend, but still the voice was familiar. When she asked, she found she was talking to another old friend. She had misdialed the area code: Los Angeles was 213, New York was 212, and the two old friends had the SAME PHONE NUMBER in different cities, 3000 miles apart!
Here's another, and this one's mine: When I was driving skiers from Salt Lake airport to the resorts I met people from all over the world. I earned my tips by telling them about Utah history. One trip, however, a lady asked me about myself. When I told her my dad was a retired airline pilot, she asked which airline. I told her United, and she asked where he lived. I told here Redondo Beach, California and she asked his name and said "Maybe I used to fly with him". When I told her his name she started laughing. When she finally stopped she said "No, I never flew with him, but my husband plays golf with him every Sunday"!
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