The most unlikely thing which happened to you?

Trident

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Let's share some amazing coincidences that we've experienced, I'm sure there will be some thought-provoking and vastly amusing anecdotes!

As for me, mine happened about 15 years ago. I was just returning home from university, got out of the commuter train and walked up to my car, an old Mark III Ford Fiesta. I unlocked it, got behind the wheel and immediately it became obvious that something wasn't quite right. There was an unfamiliar odour, so I glanced round and my eyes alighted on one of those air freshener trees dangling from the interior mirror that I had NOT hung there! I hurriedly looked behind me at the rear bench and there was a ton of stuff strewn about which unequivocally did not belong to me either :oops:

It was pretty obvious by now that this was quite simply somebody else's car, but it seemed so implausible that the fact took a few moments to register properly. When it did, the temptation was strong to try whether the engine would actually start, but I thought better of it. Across the street was a residential area, and for all I knew the real owner was watching from the living room window, aghast, a total stranger preparing to drive away in his/her car! Hurriedly I got back out, locked the door and, casting surreptitious looks over my shoulder, went in search of my actual car.

Now, I was later told that in cheap cars of that vintage (early 1990s), not having totally unique keys for every example was still relatively commonplace, but the probability of randomly encountering a "twin" in the field must nevertheless have been tiny. It doesn't stop there though, because for me to even consider sticking my key into its lock, a whole laundry list of other puzzle pieces had to fall into place as well:

1) Time - the car had to be where it was within a relatively narrow window of time, or I would simply have missed it.

2) Place - not only did it have to be parked in the general vicinity of my own car, as little as 20m further down the line and I would likewise never have noticed. OTOH, too close and I would have seen both and looked carefully to make sure I got into the right one.

3) Colour - all this happened in broad daylight, so if it had been painted in even a slightly different tone, or had a bumper sticker applied, it would have told me something was wrong before attempting to open the door.

4) Model - the car further had to be the 3-door body version, and a facelift variant with streamlined exterior mirrors. Anything else, and again I would have been alerted to the fact that it was not mine.

5) Trim - had the upholstery on the seats been a different pattern to the one in my Fiesta, I might also have noticed that just before trying to get in.

The probability of all these coincidences occurring simultaneously to create the setup for my mistake must be vanishingly small!
 
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The *exact* same thing happened to me in the late seventies with two yellow Simca 1100s parked on the same side of the street where I lived.

Another high improbability event occurred when I had to cancel an appointment to discuss a small project with a person I had never met before because of an unforeseen business trip. During the flight, out of boredom, I glanced at the laptop of the gentleman next to me (I know, bad etiquette) and noticed that he was composing an email to the very person I was supposed to meet. After apologizing for intruding, I asked my seat neighbor whether he personally knew the recipient, and he just looked at me and said "Oh yeah, he sits right across the aisle." We ended up switching seats and having our discussion on board.
 
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The colour choice of the day was not that large compared to today and you are talking about a very popular brand/car/ There was a bloke who went to the supermarket that discovered, on getting home, that he had suddenly acquired a child seat and paraphernalia. Almost arrested. Ford Sierra which was another very popular motor.
 
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By random chance, I’ve twice bumped into people that know me on the other side of the planet;- once in Australia at an airport and once in the US at a restaurant. With 6 billion people in the world how does that happen? .... I wouldn’t say I know or are known by any more people than is the average.
 
The colour choice of the day was not that large compared to today and you are talking about a very popular brand/car/ There was a bloke who went to the supermarket that discovered, on getting home, that he had suddenly acquired a child seat and paraphernalia. Almost arrested. For Sierra which was another very popular motor.

So chances are the engine would have started? Interesting!
 
Never ever cheated my wife in 15 years and 1 kid, because she is lovely with a big sweet heart and I'm really not wired for being that kind of ruthless bastard. It would be like crushing kitties.

Now, the one and only women I met in those 15 years, that had a similar, heart big enough, to drive me crazy - I met her during the exact 9 months when the kid was to come ! Nothing happened and no regret about it, really. Would have broken too many lives. Well it nearly broke mine, took two years to recover my broken mind.

That, plus the extremes circumstances we met, the bizarre friendship and karma we had... very, very weird.

She is born in the same year as my wife, less than 2 months apart. 18 september to november 14. Another bizarre fact.

For example I was kind of granted the power of... killing her with uncontrolable laughter. I have a knack for punchlines and jokes, and she nearly suffocated laughing, many times. It was like pressing a button. Irresistible.

And I'm still puzzled by the coincidence in dates. 15 years is 180 months. A pregnancy is 9 months, 1/20 of that. And she come right in that small but all peculiar span of time !
 
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Early in the 2000s, I stayed at the house of family friends who've known my parents since before I was born. I slept in the bedroom which had been their daughter's before she grew up and moved out. I read one of the books on her shelf, was fascinated, started exploring that literary universe online...

And that's where I met my wife.

If not for reading that book... :oops:
 
Twice in my life I’ve met someone who I’ve just seen exiting a building again just after entering the building - with no short cuts possible to reenter the building in the time between me meeting the person exiting the building, and meeting them again…
 
My Dad was able to use his old LTD key to unlock a young man's new Ford once...
 
When the movie 2001 Space Oddisey was released in my country in 1969, LSD was all the rage among upper-class teenagers. None of my fellow students, including myself, had tried it, but a guy who was a couple of years ahead told us that watching the film with two doses under the lower eyelid was an experience impossible to describe. We raised the money and bought him several "doses" that turned out to be placebos, but we didn't know it when the screening of the film started.

When we got to the hallucinogenic scenes at the end, I thought it was the effects of LSD, I started screaming incoherently and I only stopped when I found myself in the street full of cars and normal people who looked at me in amazement.

Since then, only wine, Cognac and some Whiskey.

I hate that movie.
 
In 1973 I was a young programmer of the Cobol system, and I was working as an intern at IBM with a Model 360 computer.

The country was still a dictatorship and almost everything that was not forbidden was mandatory, my girlfriend asked me to use the Xerox in the office to photocopy some unauthorized books, mostly erotic nonsense, communist propaganda and a rather interesting one about the nuclear accident of Palomares, published in Cuba.

The next day I was arrested by the political police, and I spent several weeks going in and out of different security departments who were not sure what I had done and did not know how to explain it to my lawyer, finally they got tired and let me go but I lost my job.

Three months later I began my compulsory military service in an elementary training center, they forced me to take an intelligence test but when my name entered the security system they detained me again for ten days. When I was released, I went back to the training center fearing the worst, but due to the usual disorganization in the institutions of my country, there was no uniform for me and my situation was not foreseen, so for four weeks I wandered around the facilities dressed in civilian clothes watching those poor guys sweat without anyone bothering me. Finally the order came to join the only unit that was incomplete, a company of official car drivers, but as I did not yet have a driving license and was not politically reliable, I was ordered to replace the ammunition spent in the shooting exercises, by then I had company, a gypsy over forty years old who had not been recruited at the regulatory age because he had a female name (Rosario).

The final incoherence came when the destinations and specialties in which we had to fulfill the rest of military life were announced.

I had no uniform or military training of any kind, so I was assigned to a Training Academy for pharmaceutical officers, I had no pharmaceutical training, so I was given a white coat with a red chevron and spent the rest of my military life selling discounted medicines to military families. Thanks to a stupid military dictatorship I have never fired a gun, they say it is very noisy.
 
In 1973 I was a young programmer of the Cobol system, and I was working as an intern at IBM with a Model 360 computer.

The country was still a dictatorship and almost everything that was not forbidden was mandatory, my girlfriend asked me to use the Xerox in the office to photocopy some unauthorized books, mostly erotic nonsense, communist propaganda and a rather interesting one about the nuclear accident of Palomares, published in Cuba.

The next day I was arrested by the political police, and I spent several weeks going in and out of different security departments who were not sure what I had done and did not know how to explain it to my lawyer, finally they got tired and let me go but I lost my job.

Three months later I began my compulsory military service in an elementary training center, they forced me to take an intelligence test but when my name entered the security system they detained me again for ten days. When I was released, I went back to the training center fearing the worst, but due to the usual disorganization in the institutions of my country, there was no uniform for me and my situation was not foreseen, so for four weeks I wandered around the facilities dressed in civilian clothes watching those poor guys sweat without anyone bothering me. Finally the order came to join the only unit that was incomplete, a company of official car drivers, but as I did not yet have a driving license and was not politically reliable, I was ordered to replace the ammunition spent in the shooting exercises, by then I had company, a gypsy over forty years old who had not been recruited at the regulatory age because he had a female name (Rosario).

The final incoherence came when the destinations and specialties in which we had to fulfill the rest of military life were announced.

I had no uniform or military training of any kind, so I was assigned to a Training Academy for pharmaceutical officers, I had no pharmaceutical training, so I was given a white coat with a red chevron and spent the rest of my military life selling discounted medicines to military families. Thanks to a stupid military dictatorship I have never fired a gun, they say it is very noisy.

This sounds so much like Brazil ugly bureaucratic whackiness.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dvo6ChoKCF4
 
When the movie 2001 Space Oddisey was released in my country in 1969, LSD was all the rage among upper-class teenagers. None of my fellow students, including myself, had tried it, but a guy who was a couple of years ahead told us that watching the film with two doses under the lower eyelid was an experience impossible to describe. We raised the money and bought him several "doses" that turned out to be placebos, but we didn't know it when the screening of the film started.

When we got to the hallucinogenic scenes at the end, I thought it was the effects of LSD, I started screaming incoherently and I only stopped when I found myself in the street full of cars and normal people who looked at me in amazement.

Since then, only wine, Cognac and some Whiskey.

I hate that movie.
Arthur C. Clarke reported being handed something once which contained white powder and a note, thanking him for a great time and assuring him that the powder was "the best stuff". He flushed it down the toilet, but I think we can hazard guess as to what it was.
 
In 2018, I still thought that discussing politics on Facebook was a good idea (that was before I realized that most people in your contacts don't care, and that those who do already agree with you!) Anyway, there wasn't a single week when I wouldn't bash the new French president, blaming his incompetence, his media-fabricated success, his conniving with the banking and finance world, and so forth. I would call him things like "the Rotschilds' lackey" or "the bankers' puppet"...

On a particular day, after posting one of those rants, I started to get ready for an appointment in Paris with a lady friend of mine. I had received an invitation for two to attend a special ceremony at the Paris City Hall, commemorating the 500th anniversary of Protestantism. On arriving in the area, I was kind of surprised to see military men in charge ID control checkpoints, but thought that was perhaps standard procedure to keep terrorism out of official buildings.

Once inside, we realized that the large hall where the event was hosted was already packed with people, and we had to be standing for the whole thing. My friend wouldn't have it this way! "Look, she said, there are several half-empty rows at the front, let's go there!" I could tell that was the VIP area, and strongly tried to talk her out of it, saying we had no press credentials of any kind, but that wouldn't discourage her. She made a go for it, and since I was the one who'd dragged her along, I felt responsible for her if anything happened to her, and felt I had no choice but to follow her, jump over the red ropes and sit next to her, hoping no-one would be asking for our credentials.

A few minutes later, there was some agitation, and I could see the president of the Protestant federation walk into the room, along with the Paris mayor. "Oh! So that's why the military were there", I said. "The mayor came in person, so they had to reinforce the security." Except they were not alone... right alongside Ms. Hidalgo was none other than President Macron himself! Now I really was feeling veeeery unconfortable being there in the VIP zone with no credentials!

After about 90 minutes of (mostly) boring speeches from all three, there goes Macron walking towards the VIP zone and shaking hands, telling stories, showing off his literary and philosophical knowledge for the eager guests... and slowly advancing towards my row... My friend was ecstatic: "I want to shake hands with him!", she said. "If that makes you happy, go ahead", I replied, "but as for me, I'm staying as far into the row as I can to make sure I stay clear from it!"

After shaking my friend's hands, Macron looks at me right in the eyes and extends his hand towards me. What was I to do? I had once avoided the handshake of a French Minister of Culture, but it seemed like a really bad idea to do the same this time, what with the two menacing bodyguards next to him (one of which was the soon-to-be-infamous Benalla, looking at me like he was ready to slit my throat at first notice). And so I extended my hand, thinking to myself: "If only he knew that less than four hours ago I was bashing him on social networks!"

There, you have it, most certainly one of the most unlikely things that ever happened to me!
 
Arthur C. Clarke reported being handed something once which contained white powder and a note, thanking him for a great time and assuring him that the powder was "the best stuff". He flushed it down the toilet, but I think we can hazard guess as to what it was.
Hi
 

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Now that reminds me of the one time I also met a VIP (and didn't quite realize), which I'd totally forgotten about!

The year is 2004 (more than 20 years ago :oops: Damn!), and I was in Hamburg to take the Lufthansa/DLR pilot assessment centre. It was a two day affair (IIRC - or maybe it was one day but too long to go home the same day?), and I made friends with four other applicants on the first who were staying in the same hotel as I was near the airport. So we went out for a meal together in the evening, and afterward several of us needed an ATM, and at that hour of night we figured the easiest place to find one would be the airport terminal.

So off we went, and as we scoured the virtually deserted building (it was really late...) we walked past a heavy metal looking guy, having a smoke by himself in one of the designated areas. Funny, he looks just like Ville Valo, I thought to myself - I don't think any of the others even took notice. Eventually, we found an ATM, got our money and left, using a different exit to the one we had entered by, because we'd wandered so far inside the terminal. And, lo and behold, parked outside was the HIM tour bus! I only thought now, before posting this, to do the obvious and ask Google whether there was a HIM concert in Hamburg back then, and sure enough: March 26, which aligns perfectly with the time stamp on a group photo we took of ourselves :)

As for the assessment centre? I didn't pass - only one of us did, and he washed out in the next stage. No idea why I failed, it was possible to get the results but only in person (privacy yada yada), and that seemed an unreasonable effort for an insight that would ultimately not change the outcome. Another guy went on to enroll in an independent flight school on his own dime and got hired by Air Berlin, so we can't have been all that bad ;)
 
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In 2018, I still thought that discussing politics on Facebook was a good idea (that was before I realized that most people in your contacts don't care, and that those who do already agree with you!) Anyway, there wasn't a single week when I wouldn't bash the new French president, blaming his incompetence, his media-fabricated success, his conniving with the banking and finance world, and so forth. I would call him things like "the Rotschilds' lackey" or "the bankers' puppet"...

On a particular day, after posting one of those rants, I started to get ready for an appointment in Paris with a lady friend of mine. I had received an invitation for two to attend a special ceremony at the Paris City Hall, commemorating the 500th anniversary of Protestantism. On arriving in the area, I was kind of surprised to see military men in charge ID control checkpoints, but thought that was perhaps standard procedure to keep terrorism out of official buildings.

Once inside, we realized that the large hall where the event was hosted was already packed with people, and we had to be standing for the whole thing. My friend wouldn't have it this way! "Look, she said, there are several half-empty rows at the front, let's go there!" I could tell that was the VIP area, and strongly tried to talk her out of it, saying we had no press credentials of any kind, but that wouldn't discourage her. She made a go for it, and since I was the one who'd dragged her along, I felt responsible for her if anything happened to her, and felt I had no choice but to follow her, jump over the red ropes and sit next to her, hoping no-one would be asking for our credentials.

A few minutes later, there was some agitation, and I could see the president of the Protestant federation walk into the room, along with the Paris mayor. "Oh! So that's why the military were there", I said. "The mayor came in person, so they had to reinforce the security." Except they were not alone... right alongside Ms. Hidalgo was none other than President Macron himself! Now I really was feeling veeeery unconfortable being there in the VIP zone with no credentials!

After about 90 minutes of (mostly) boring speeches from all three, there goes Macron walking towards the VIP zone and shaking hands, telling stories, showing off his literary and philosophical knowledge for the eager guests... and slowly advancing towards my row... My friend was ecstatic: "I want to shake hands with him!", she said. "If that makes you happy, go ahead", I replied, "but as for me, I'm staying as far into the row as I can to make sure I stay clear from it!"

After shaking my friend's hands, Macron looks at me right in the eyes and extends his hand towards me. What was I to do? I had once avoided the handshake of a French Minister of Culture, but it seemed like a really bad idea to do the same this time, what with the two menacing bodyguards next to him (one of which was the soon-to-be-infamous Benalla, looking at me like he was ready to slit my throat at first notice). And so I extended my hand, thinking to myself: "If only he knew that less than four hours ago I was bashing him on social networks!"

There, you have it, most certainly one of the most unlikely things that ever happened to me!
That's the (imaginary) power of red tape, as well as the power of cutting right though it - congratulations, Dear Sir!
 
By random chance, I’ve twice bumped into people that know me on the other side of the planet;- once in Australia at an airport and once in the US at a restaurant. With 6 billion people in the world how does that happen? .... I wouldn’t say I know or are known by any more people than is the average.
News update - the current humanity herd count apparently just crossed 8 billion...
 
Best I can come up with is how I bumped into a guy I had met while outprocessing from the USMC boot camp in San Diego at the Navy base in Meridian MS (yes, I wanted to be a Marine and then ended up going into the Navy). Para had been in the Med Board group because he'd been badly hurt in training and was marking time to see if they'd let him continue in service.

It had been almost a year since then, so that poor bastard had been in Boot Camp for on the order of 9 months or more! And he still remembered me, which was pretty cool. The other marine with him was wondering WTF, though.

The only other one is a college classmate's service dog still remembering me after having not seen me for 5 years.
 
Two things often happened to me
-people recognized me after seing my mug once or two, over many years (could never, ever be on the run - it would last three minutes)
-when on the phone, people felt my voice was that of a woman
 
News update - the current humanity herd count apparently just crossed 8 billion...
Statistically, among so many people there must be geniuses capable of obtaining unlimited energy sources, real healing for all diseases, artificial photosynthesis, antigravity... I wonder how the establishment will manage to avoid it.
 
Two things often happened to me
-people recognized me after seing my mug once or two, over many years (could never, ever be on the run - it would last three minutes)
-when on the phone, people felt my voice was that of a woman


My friend, there are worse things.

-A year ago, I had just boarded a bus when a beautiful girl got up to offer me her seat.

-On Christmas Day an unknown old woman approached me on the street, kissed me, we were talking about the eighties for a few minutes, she asked me about all my family and friends from then and I have no idea who she was, I hope she was not an old girlfriend... brrrr.
 
I think the most unlikely thing was I was over in London for a christening 20 years ago and myself and friends ended a night out in Mahiki nightclub where we met Prince Harry.
 
I think the most unlikely thing was I was over in London for a christening 20 years ago and myself and friends ended a night out in Mahiki nightclub where we met Prince Harry.
That reminds me of a bad experience I had to live during a trip to Brazil.

My friends decided to have a few Caipirinhas in a very popular place, the atmosphere was very attractive, the music of the highest quality and we were always surrounded by spectacular women in elegant party dresses. Everything was going well until my friend Juan shouted: they are all men!!

Since then, I have been forced to put up with my wife's sarcasm.
 
Let's share some amazing coincidences that we've experienced, I'm sure there will be some thought-provoking and vastly amusing anecdotes!

As for me, mine happened about 15 years ago. I was just returning home from university, got out of the commuter train and walked up to my car, an old Mark III Ford Fiesta. I unlocked it, got behind the wheel and immediately it became obvious that something wasn't quite right. There was an unfamiliar odour, so I glanced round and my eyes alighted on one of those air freshener trees dangling from the interior mirror that I had NOT hung there! I hurriedly looked behind me at the rear bench and there was a ton of stuff strewn about which unequivocally did not belong to me either :oops:

It was pretty obvious by now that this was quite simply somebody else's car, but it seemed so implausible that the fact took a few moments to register properly. When it did, the temptation was strong to try whether the engine would actually start, but I thought better of it. Across the street was a residential area, and for all I knew the real owner was watching from the living room window, aghast, a total stranger preparing to drive away in his/her car! Hurriedly I got back out, locked the door and, casting surreptitious looks over my shoulder, went in search of my actual car.

Now, I was later told that in cheap cars of that vintage (early 1990s), not having totally unique keys for every example was still relatively commonplace, but the probability of randomly encountering a "twin" in the field must nevertheless have been tiny. It doesn't stop there though, because for me to even consider sticking my key into its lock, a whole laundry list of other puzzle pieces had to fall into place as well:

1) Time - the car had to be where it was within a relatively narrow window of time, or I would simply have missed it.

2) Place - not only did it have to be parked in the general vicinity of my own car, as little as 20m further down the line and I would likewise never have noticed. OTOH, too close and I would have seen both and looked carefully to make sure I got into the right one.

3) Colour - all this happened in broad daylight, so if it had been painted in even a slightly different tone, or had a bumper sticker applied, it would have told me something was wrong before attempting to open the door.

4) Model - the car further had to be the 3-door body version, and a facelift variant with streamlined exterior mirrors. Anything else, and again I would have been alerted to the fact that it was not mine.

5) Trim - had the upholstery on the seats been a different pattern to the one in my Fiesta, I might also have noticed that just before trying to get in.

The probability of all these coincidences occurring simultaneously to create the setup for my mistake must be vanishingly small!
I had a similar thing happen to me . In my company car days we all had Ford Cortina's. We were all staying at a hotel with on street parking. I went out to my 'car' and opened a colleague's car with my key. Was under orange street lights his was orange and mine red They all looked the same!
 

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