Me: I was a waiter. Last night of summer break, I wasn't even supposed to work that day (ala Clerks). Agreed to help out for the dinner rush, only.

An hour after the rush was over (and I was supposed to be long done) the hostess sat me one more table. I refused to take it (I'd already started drinking with my bartender buddies slipping me cocktails). She insisted, the customers rejected the first table she offered. I relented and trudged off to get these yahoos out the door as quickly as I could.

Her: She wanted to meet a friend for a drink halfway between their apartments that were an hour apart. Their first option was too crowded. Their second option was too loud. So, they reluctantly settled for the third place. My place.

By the time they got parked and in the restaurant, the dinner rush was over so they had no trouble getting a table, but the hostess put them right next to a table of smokers, so they asked for anything else. The hostess put them at my table (of course).

She would not look at me. She would not talk to me. Her friend had to order. I was in a goofy mood (and a little buzzed) so I wouldn't let her off the hook easily. I took a knee to get to eye level and didn't let up until I made her blush and smile.

Her friend slipped me her number, I called her later that night and we talked until dawn.

Last summer marked twenty-five years married, with four grown children... all because of a couple dozen random events that had to happen in exactly the way they did, or we'd never have met.