Small town girl texting small town boy about international aspirations.

I am a small town girl. Things like Whole Foods, YMCA's and magnate schools were not a part of my youth. I grew up in a town where everyone literally knew everyone else. Sometimes I miss it, but most of the times NOT. Hats off to all those American women who make their lives work in a small town. I'm torn between Mayberry and Milan in my mind.

I am a small town girl. Last weekend I was on an extremely brief visit to Harrisonburg for my final wedding dress fitting. It went well. I arrived to the dress shop to be greeted by one of the staff there who happens to have just married the cousin of one of my friends' boyfriends. That guy happens to be the son of my sister-in-law's coworker who all work for their family's engeneering firm which is located across the street from one of my best friends apartments which is situated next to her Aunt's house who I know from tagging along on their family vacations in the 90s. While in the dress shop, I see the other girls who have been helping me through this process and wish one of them well for her wedding. Then I head down to the farmer's market with my mom to pick up some awesome herbs where I run in to an old good friend's parents. We chat at length (about religion for some reason during which my mom mentions that she was raised half Pentocostal, half Mennonite) until both of us see other people that we know and have to go on those directions. Also spotted at the farmer's market: A group of girls that I grew up going to church with and their children, the same guy who sold me a bunch of herbs last month, mainly Mennonite women selling veggies, flowers and other crafts, and countless other familiar faces. Then I go to our family's fave restaurant, Taste of Thai to pick up lunch to take to my grandma's house where I also see a million people that I somehow know. On the way to Grandma's I pass the old high school and all of the familiar houses that I have been looking at since 1980. Then it is off to dad's house, where I grew up, we sit and talk with his crazy friend (think mildly intellectual, morose, disabled aging hippy) while my dad complains that we are holding him up from yard work. Then I get a strange text from an unknown 540 (Harrisonburg) number. The fun begins and the exchange goes like this:

540-###-####: "How's Sicily?"
(me pondering the bizarre questions) Is this person texting a friend who is visiting Italy?? Who text's to Europe?!

Ashley's response: "It is everything that I ever hoped and dreamed that it would be!"

(minutes later)
540-###-####: "Great! It really helps that you two knew each other a few years ago"
(Whhuuut?! Me wondering what in the hell this all means!?) At this point I explain to my dad and his crazy friend what is going on and ask for their help in formulating creative responses to this person who clearly has the wrong #.

(My dad's friend comes up with this one)
Ashley's response: "Next year we are thinking of visiting Japan"

minutes later as we all stare at my phone on the kitchen table in anticipation.
540-###-####: "really? me too, we have friends there and we go snowboarding in the north, too."

OK wow - this person is really rolling with our punches (and has some great contacts)...I get ballsy...

Ashley's response: "Do you have any friends in Egypt because we would also like to visit the great pyramids after making our pilgrimage from Mecca to Medina"

540-###-####: "no I don’t. That would be awesome if you could make that happen!"

(my dad's friend also comes up with this one)
Ashley's response: "I can dream, can't I?"
...bring it back to reality and try to save ourselves from the Mecca to Medina comment.

At this point I feel that this is someone that I know, but just dont have their number programmed into my phone.

(about an hour later and I am on the road back to RVA)
540-###-####: "Yes, just envision your dreams and you can make them happen!! :)"

wow - inspirational advice!? I'm feeling guilty about being mildly deceitful to this person now. I freeze up and cop out by sending a quote from Pedro in Napoleon Dynamite. Hear the Spanish accent in your mind.

Ashley's response: "If you vote for me, all of your wildest dreams will come true"

After arriving home/back to reality my guilty conscience took over. I texted the person apologizing for joking around and told them who I was and asked if they know me. I got a response the next morning from someone that I have known since the early days of chillin’ on the "slopes" at Massanutten. I knew it must have been an old friend! He said that Sicily was his CAT that he gave away to another friend named Ashley a few weeks ago. I guess I wasn't the only one playing around! Hahahaah. hey Jeremy - I want to go snowboarding in JAPAN! Let me tag along next time. Konnichiwa!