By pure coincidence a friend of mine and I started talking about my deceased great grandpa's house, he noted my description of the house was remarkably like his friends new place. I attested, "The world could not be that small." Even though everything that I said matched his account of the house, I still thought it wasn't likely. His friend was paying rent to the crazy old lady next door. It could have been my grandma, but she lives in a entirely different city from her dad's old house.
This rock we live on, the circumference is just under 25,000 miles around, and only about 30% of over 197 million square miles of land is inhabitable by human, and of the 6.66 billion people only 1% are filthy rich. Saying the world is small is truly an ignorant idea; the Earth is huge, for that reason many people never travel far from home. So to feel better about never becoming accomplished at anything prestigious and moving far, far away to a foreign land; we lay blame on Earth and it's infantile size for not providing any worthwhile opportunities to escape somewhere better.
Few months later, our friendship had ran its course, but my grandma was now evicting the renters she thought to be there because they had fallen behind six months in rent and still not paying. To make a long story short, guess who shows up at his friend's house on eviction day. It was none other than Jesus mutherfuckin Christ himself all shrouded in irony. He asked what the fuck I was doing there. I replied, "small world."
So the moral of this story, don't trust the crazy lady next door.