For me, it was a long talk I had with a random person on Omegle when that was a thing. I was bored one night so I decided to give it a try and I was matched with someone who I had nearly a 2 hour conversation with. We told jokes, told each other about ourselves, and talked like we were lifelong friends. But, we never did tell each other our names. I could’ve talked to this person all night but the interaction turned for the worst near the end. The person was depressed from what I gathered and the depression arose and the conversation fizzled out. I still think about them nearly 6 years later and hope that they are doing good whoever they were.
I was sitting at the bus stop one day, heading into work. As I’m sitting on the bench, with headphones in, some guy stands up and waves at me to get my attention. I’ve seen him before; he’s usually at the bus stop at the same time as I am on most days, but we’ve never talked until now. I take out my earbuds, and he points at the ground behind me and says with a smile on his face “Are you gonna finish that?”
I look back where he’s pointing, and there’s a dirty shoe on the ground behind me. The joke didn’t quite land, but just to be polite I said “Haha, it’s all yours”. He takes a step over toward the shoe and gently nudges it with his foot, and then lets out an “Oh fuck”. I turn to look at the shoe again, and that’s when I realize that it’s not empty. There’s a whole severed foot in the shoe, with flies and maggots starting to make a home in the stump.
We called the cops who came out, taped off the bus stop and took down our statements, and then I’ve never heard anything else about the situation since then. I never found a news story about the foot, no follow-up from the PD about it, nothing. The bus stop was open the next day. Never saw that guy at the bus stop again after that, either; no clue if he was involved in the foot situation or if it just shook him so hard that he changed his route to work.
Was riding my motorcycle up to the races at Laguna Seca in Monterey. As a photographer I had all my gear on the bike. Everything, it was packed. It is a sportbike so I didn’t have a lot of luggage. Just a tankbag that was filled to the top, and a backpack I had strapped to the rear seat, which is pretty tiny. Anyway on the way up the 101 I come across another motorcycle who pulls onto the interstate and up next to me. We ride for a while, and then as we get to an exit he motions for me to pull off and points to his tank. I decided that was a good time to get gas myself so I peeled in behind him. We get to the station and he takes off his helmet and he’s definitely in his 70’s or 80’s. I was in my mid 30’s at the time so it was cool to see an older rider. We were filling up our bikes and he asked if I wanted to grab a cup of coffee and I said sure. So we went inside and started talking, and he too was heading up to Laguna Seca for the races. He asked if I had ridden the 1 up to Monterey and I said that I hadn’t. He insisted that it was something you don’t want to miss. I explained that I had to pick up my press pass and was on a little bit of a schedule. We finished our cups (I had oj) and walked back out to the bikes. He said if I wanted to ride with him it was cool and that he was taking the cutoff over to the 1 and would be taking that exit. We hit the road and miles passed. I saw him point to the exit over to the 1, and move over. I waved to him and pointed straight ahead. I was just going to ‘get there’. He nodded his head and headed off the exit. As I was right at the end of the exit something in my head said ‘screw it’, and I jammed on the brakes and whipped over. When I got to the stop at the end of the exit he looked over and pulled up his visor and yelled “you changed your mind?” I nodded and away we went.
It was a beautiful ride, and we stopped again to get gas and were chatting again. We decided that we would stop up the road at a place he knew to eat. We then commented about each other’s bikes and for some reason we decided to swap bikes. I get on his bike, and he hops on mine, and away we go. About 2 miles down the road I am sitting there following him and had a realization… Everything I have is on my bike. Wallet, phone, camera equipment, clothes, etc. I started thinking, my bike is a lot faster than his bike and if he were to take off, I wouldn’t have any way of catching him. Then it occurred to me that I don’t even know his name. I could just imagine getting pulled over on his bike and trying to explain to the cops that this old guy let me borrow it, and then not being able to even tell them his name. I calmed back down and just got back into the ride and we swapped who led a couple of times. The view was/is absolutely spectacular so that kept my mind from going into overdrive. We got to the place to have lunch and pulled over. We both talked about the nice parts about each other’s bikes and we went in and he bought me lunch. We also exchanged names. I explained that when we got into Monterey I had to go over to a certain hotel to pick up my credentials. He was heading over to his hotel and then going to the track. We both hopped back on our own bikes and took off. When we got into Monterey we came to an intersection and I had to go one way and he went the other. We waved to each other and that was it. I really wish I could remember his name, but over time it has been lost in my mind. I think about him every once in a while and wonder things like what ever happened to him. I would guess he has passed by now, but think it would be cool to have one more chat and a quick ride on each other’s bikes if he was still around and riding. I just hope that one day some young kid remembers me as that old guy on the motorcycle.
I used to live in downtown Oakland, notoriously not the safest city. I was stumbling home from a night of drinking around 3am one morning, and this guy on a bike rolled up on me out of nowhere and he just goes “hey man, you scared of black people?” He was an older black man that appeared to be disheveled and possibly living on the street, and I legit just laughed and was like, no, I grew up in a city, and I live here, so no, not at all haha. And he just goes, “Alright. You have a good night.” and he rode off.
Like 5 years later, I’m waiting for my bus one morning to go to work, and the exact same thing happens. Rolls up on a bike and asks me if I’m scared of black people. Again, I say no, kind of being like dude leave me alone not this again, and he replies “I know you’re not. I remember you. Have a great morning.” He shook my hand and rolled off, never saw him again. Just such an odd experience haha.
Reminds me of a time I was sitting outside enjoying my high, staring out into the night. Suddenly, a smile appeared directly in my gaze, floating in the darkness- I squinted and noticed the smile belonged to a black man looking back at me, who said “couldn’t see me til I smiled, huh?”
when i was young, i was in a bad car accident where i had a head injury. someone stopped and held a shirt against my head and held my hand till the ambulance got there. I’ll never meet them, but I’ll never forget it.
I was in Nashville for a business trip, and I was trying to figure out where I could get a pack of smokes. I see an old security guard smoking, so I figure he might have an idea. He ended up giving me and my wife a smoke to “hold us over till then”, and then started talking about the yearly floods, and how Magic Johnson bought this building and how he got his unusual name. ( Which is honest to God on his birth certificate)
I will never forget you, Tiny.
