Mike Rowe Instagram – I was in Scottsdale yesterday, replenishing my electrolytes at a bar when a man introduced himself. “My name is Sy, and you probably won’t remember this, but we met on the streets of SF in 2007.” “Of course,” I said. “I’ll never forget that day.” Sy laughed. “You were kind of a smart aleck back then, too.” “I guess some things never change,” I said. With that, Sy opened a small notebook and removed a piece of folded looseleaf from the inside flap. “Here,” he said. I looked at the paper and recognized my signature, along with my trenchant bon mot, and wondered why this man would carry it around for 17 years. “I have no idea why I asked for your autograph in the first place. I mean, I liked Dirty Jobs, but I’ve never asked anyone for their signature before, or since. Isn’t that strange?” I nodded and agreed. It did seem strange, but not nearly as strange as what happened next. The bartender, a tall guy named Kenny asked me if I’d care for another. “Sure, and whatever Sy here is having.” When Kenny returned with our drinks he said, “You probably won’t remember this Mike, but we met back 2007.” “Did you say 2007?” “Yep.” I looked at Sy and said, “Do you guys know each other?” Both men shook their heads. Kenny continued. “You were in a bar on Mackinac Island. You guys were having a big night.” I asked, “Were you a bartender back there?” “No, I was just a guy who grew up watching Dirty Jobs.” “That’s quite a coincidence. Two guys in a random bar, both of whom met me 17 years ago. I wish you’d taken a picture.” “Why is that?” asked Kenny. “Because it would be statistically impossible if both of you had evidence of our meeting.” “Not quite impossible,” said Kenny. With that, he pulled out his phone and started scrolling. 30 seconds later the evidence was downloaded from the cloud. “There we are,” said Kenny. “That’s me crouched down in front of everyone. And that’s you, in the plaid shirt drinking a beer.” It’s moments like these that make me wonder about the belief held by so many that everything happens for a reason. Personally, I’m still a guy who believes in coincidence…but not as much as I did before Sy and Kenny brought the receipts.