I’ve been so busy at work that I haven’t written anything in over a week, and I have to rectify that. I’m starting to get tired of all the health care and budget deficit discussion, and I’m supposed to be relaxing this weekend so it’s time for something a little lighter. I thought I’d share one of my favorite stories.

My good friends Dave and Kim have a timeshare and can use their points just about anywhere they want. In June 2004, they decided to spend a week in Cancun and invited me along — most of the couples I know have found that I usually do a pretty good job playing the third wheel and I don’t mind it at all. After a few days of lounging in the beach, drinking demasiado tequila, and swimming with dolphins (everyone should do that at some point in their lives), we decided to get a little culture.

We set off on a day tour to Chichen Itza with a crazy bus driver who almost ran us off the road a few times. Three hours and a few mild heart attacks later, we set off on our tour of the Mayan ruins. It was both awe-inspiring to see what that civilization accomplished, and haunting to learn of the savage nature of some elements of the culture. The highlight, of course, was the pyramid, El Castillo. Dave and I agreed we would run up the whole thing without stopping — I still remember to this day that there were 91 steps. At the top of the pyramid, there is an inner room but it’s dark, cramped and pretty creepy so you take a quick walk through. Most people just hang out on the outside rim, which is about 6 feet wide, and survey the landscape below. There is room for a few dozen people up there, butit was a hot day and those 91 steps aren’t easy for all the overweight American tourists, so it wasn’t crowded. Maybe a dozen people were up there with us. You get to the top, look around for five minutes, and make your way down. Carefully.

In the picture linked, if you stand at the edge of the left back corner, you can see the entire ruins in the background. It’s a popular place to get your picture taken. When I got to the top, I looked over and saw someone I thought I recognized. He was waiting for a few people to get their picture taken so he and his wife could take each other’s pictures. He looked a lot like a guy who played on my softball team in St. Louis at the time but I thought there was no way that could be him. Then I started thinking. I remembered that he missed our last game because he was getting married and was then going on his honeymoon. I wasn’t sure where he was going on his honeymoon but Cancun seemed like a likely destination. I couldn’t remember his name – everyone on the team called him by his last name and I couldn’t remember that either. I told Dave, “I think I know that guy,” and he said there’s no way. After a minute or two, I finally remembered his name, so I walked over. ”Matt?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Switz?”

Neither of us could believe that in the middle of the jungle, on top of an ancient Mayan pyramid with only about 10 people on it, someone we knew was there at the same time. I told him and his wife that they had to let me take a picture of them, since they each had only a solo picture taken by the other. Still a little shocked at how surreal the situation was, they of course agreed. I hope they have that picture hanging somewhere in their house now so they can tell that story.

It remains the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me. It just goes to show that, as trite and cliche as the saying may be: it really is a small world after all.