Exactly How Small of a World Is It?

Last night, Wonderful Guy and I took his twice removed father's cousin (or some such) who has just returned to the area from a brief sojourn out of state, to dinner. While she is looking for work and a place to live, she is staying with friends. When we took her home, she wanted us to come in. Said friends wanted to meet us. I was thinking more about home, Olympics, shower, knitting, but whatever.

As we pulled up, she opened the garage door, and there were two motorcycles. I knew there were common interests right off. Likely this wasn't going to be a quick hey and we're outta here.

Little did I know.

Seems that Mr. Friend and Wonderful Guy were twins separated at birth when it comes to their motorbike history.

Mrs. Friend says to me, as the motorcycle conversation took off, 'Well, you might as well come on over here and sit down...' Conversation commenced about similar trips taken, and stays at the same National Parks, when somehow, and I do not even remember how, but Mrs. Friend says...

"...his parents lived in Kansas in a small town that was hit by a tornado..."

"GET OUT!!! Not Greensburg?! That's my hometown."

Yes, it seems that Mr. Friend's dad bought the dental practice from the tooth guy that left traumatized me about dental work to this day.

We don't seem to have mutual acquaintances, but we sure do know the same places. Or places that were.

Cuz was kind of stunned, I believe. The stories about the tornado, family histories, acquaintances, and familiar places sort of left her in the dust.

But what are the chances that she would be living with people that know where my people come from?