Tonight I was walking home, on my block, exhausted, ready to be home for the night, huddled against the cold and hustling to get inside before the apparently imminent snow explosion.

As I’m walking, head down, a girl stops me and I pull out my earphones.

“Were you at the Consulate in Australia last year?” she asks me?

Thinking she’s asking if I worked there I respond “No….but I am Australian. How did you know that?”

“No” she responds “I think I was at the consulate with you in December, in Sydney, getting our visas”.

And then I recognise her…

Last December when I was home, I went to get my visa at the US Consulate. Because I’ve been before and know there’s a wait I had brought books and magazines to read. I noticed the girl next to me looking a bit  shellshocked and empty handed. I offered her my magazine which she took to read and then we exchanged a few nervous words but nothing at length (if you’ve never been in a US Consulate, know that they are terrifying).

I got through my business and left and, to be honest, forgot all about it.

Tonight, that girl stopped me in the street. She told me she’s seen me before and told her boyfriend “I think I saw that nice girl who lent me a New York Magazine at the Consulate in Sydney in our street”.

Turns out she lives 3 buildings down from me. When we met in the consulate, neither of us mentioned which part of the US we were going to, and now we run into eachother living on the same block.

We exchanged numbers and now we’re going to be friends.

This has blown my mind. It’s one of my best New York stories.