Though mountains divide and oceans are wide...

Last week, while at a party of a rooftop, I inadvertently won four comped tickets to come back.

So it was that Whitney, Ross and I ended up atop one of the highest points in Rockville, MD. Maybe. We stood for a while regaling stories of Southeast Asia. Like soldiers in a war, our stories are usually "had to have been to that country to find it funny" moments, like funerals hosted by midgets and transvestites or bar girls named "Bobo" or sharing your bus with chickens. Sure, the lead-ins tempt you with excitement, but in order for your eyes not to glaze over, you had to have lived there before.

Collectively, we met a guy named Armando, who called me a squeaky toy and boasted being about to help us out in Nicaragua, Hong Kong and Colombia (the next countries we three respectively set our peepers toward). Then, we added on a guy named Tim, a Vietnamese American who is cousins with a girl whose wedding was attended by Whitney. Also, he knew Whitney's last bosses, Victor and Vincent.

THIS is how small the world is.