For the past month, I’ve been sitting in on these cross-training classes at my school. The guy who teaches one of my classes has been working at the school for awhile. He’s a nice guy. We’ve passed each other in the halls quite a few times over the past 3 years, said hi, made chitcat.

The other day, I was sitting in on his class and he mentioned to the students that he used to be a DJ at UCF. Suddenly, something clicked in my head, and I realized:

This guy sat next to me for an entire college semester in 1998!

I had vague memories of a long-haired, affable guy who sat next to me in Broadcast Regulations at UCF. He usually had a Mountain Dew by his side. He DJ’d at W-UCF. But I had no memory of his face or his name or anything aside from those details. And he’d been working next to me for 3 years! Craziness!

Stuff like this happens to me all the time, to the point where the coincidences have gotten spooky. I firmly believe that Orlando is the smallest big city in America. Everyone here is connected in some way. It’s kind of beautiful, if you think about it.