What are the chances?

Today Jim and I were riding the ski lift with another couple, a fairly common event with pretty typical conversation. Only none of us could have predicted what would follow.

First, the back-story. Jim and I were honeymooning at a small resort in Virgin Gorda in the British Virgin Islands in November of 1999 when suddenly, on a beautiful, sunny day, we were told we must evacuate. Hurricane Lenny was on his way, and it was not safe to stay. The next boat to Tortola (the island we needed to fly out from) was leaving in 20 minutes. We hustled to our room and quickly packed, well crammed our stuff into our bags and high-tailed it onto the small boat. There were two other couples who left with us on that first boat out. One of the men introduced himself as an OB/GYN from Grand Junction, Colorado.

Our experience was surely memorable, but that doctor was the only person we remembered from that chaotic day. Perhaps it was because of our love for Colorado and then the purchase of what was to become our home here in Telluride. In fact, when we first moved here and I went to my new gynecologist in Grand Junction, I asked him if he knew of this guy, though I could not remember his name.

So here we are this morning riding the lift, engaging in idle chit-chat when we learn that this couple is from Grand Junction, and they have a small cabin on Wilson Mesa, not far from where my doc also has a cabin. Jim asked him if he knew of my doctor and he did. In fact, he too was an OB/GYN there. Jim then began to tell him of our adventure and how we evacuated with a guy who was an OB/GYN from Grand Junction, and we can't remember his name, only he could not finish the story. He was interrupted with a very loud "that was me, that was us on that boat!"