It was 1985.

I was on the final leg of a 3-month trip to Europe, which was a 30th-year birthday present from me to me.

That leg called for staying a week with a woman I knew from Cape Cod – where I lived at the time – who was living in Paris and had offered to put me up in her apartment.

I was really psyched for that, as she knew Paris inside and out and had promised to show me around the city.

But when I arrived, she said she wouldn’t be home while I was there because she’d had a terrible breakup with her boyfriend and needed to get away.

She expressed regret about what had happened and promised to make it up to me if I were ever to return to Paris.

So, I spent the week checking out all the places you’d expect to see as a tourist in Paris – the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame, and Jim Morrison’s grave at the Père Lachaise Cemetery.

It was an interesting week, but I couldn’t shake the disappointment of not having someone to guide me around the city.

When my week in Paris ended, it was time to fly back to Boston and my life back on Cape Cod.

On that flight, I sat next to a talkative young man who told me he was a minor league baseball player who aspired to a career in “the Show” (the big leagues of major league baseball).

During that conversation, I told him about my Paris experience and how the woman who was supposed to put me up and show me around had suddenly left the city because of a traumatic breakup with her boyfriend.

This guy went into hysterical laughter at that.

“I’m that boyfriend!” he said.

What are the odds of leaving on the same day as this guy… being on the same plane… and getting seated right next to each other?

Like I said, you can’t make this stuff up.

And with that, I’m hitting the send button.

Embracing the improbable,

Doug Fogel, Publisher, Natural Wealth, Natural Health