Memorable
So I joke sometimes that my superpower is that, no matter where I go, I run into someone I know. And usually it's pretty straightforward - I'll see a gamer friend when I'm out to dinner, or a classmate when I'm at a charity event, or (on one memorable occasion) a client when I'm on the plane home from Rome. But now it's getting a bit absurd.
I was wandering around one of the local Open Markets with a friend today, and had stopped to check out a vendor who was selling beautiful steampunk accessories. I know I had seen their wares at the local SF convention before, but that was about the limit of my recollection.
After talking up her wares to my friend for a few minutes, the vendor stopped to look at me, mentioned that I looked incredibly familiar, then suddenly came out with 'Aha! My roommate sold you a hat! Five years ago, at Arisia, when it was back at the good hotel!'
And she was right (and it was a very pretty hat). But.... how the heck does this happen? I can't remember the faces of clients I saw five months ago, let alone five years, and I'd like to think I form a closer bond with someone whose pet's life I save than with someone I sold a hat to. And it's not like I stand out; all humility aside, I'm a short, freckled redhead. We're kind of a dime a dozen here in Boston. I don't even have any distinguishing marks; all of my tattoos were covered up at the time.
This may somehow be related to my secondary superpower, 'strangers talk to me extensively and tell me their life stories....'
I was wandering around one of the local Open Markets with a friend today, and had stopped to check out a vendor who was selling beautiful steampunk accessories. I know I had seen their wares at the local SF convention before, but that was about the limit of my recollection.
After talking up her wares to my friend for a few minutes, the vendor stopped to look at me, mentioned that I looked incredibly familiar, then suddenly came out with 'Aha! My roommate sold you a hat! Five years ago, at Arisia, when it was back at the good hotel!'
And she was right (and it was a very pretty hat). But.... how the heck does this happen? I can't remember the faces of clients I saw five months ago, let alone five years, and I'd like to think I form a closer bond with someone whose pet's life I save than with someone I sold a hat to. And it's not like I stand out; all humility aside, I'm a short, freckled redhead. We're kind of a dime a dozen here in Boston. I don't even have any distinguishing marks; all of my tattoos were covered up at the time.
This may somehow be related to my secondary superpower, 'strangers talk to me extensively and tell me their life stories....'