Walking down a street in Notting Hill, we pass a young couple holding hands.
Clara pauses, points at the man’s shirt, and says, “I like your shirt.”
I’m walking behind Clara, so I can see his reaction to Clara’s compliment. The man smiles — beams, really — then elbows the woman, who I assume is his girlfriend or wife, and says, “See! I told you!”
I catch up to Clara and ask, “Why did you like that guy’s shirt?”
“Oh,” she says. “Sentimental Value. The movie. It was on his shirt. It’s a Norwegian film.”
“You saw that on his shirt?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “Great movie. I loved it.”
“Is it subtitled?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says. “It’s Norwegian. It won Best International Film. First Norwegian film to win.”
I stop her on the sidewalk.
“Let me understand this,” I say. “On a random street in Notting Hill, you walked by a guy who happened to be wearing a shirt promoting a foreign film from Norway — performed in Norwegian and subtitled for English-speaking audiences — that you also watched. That just happened?”
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s great.”
No wonder the guy was so excited. What were the chances that he would ever pass anyone who could accurately identify the image on that shirt other than my crazy movie nerd daughter?
Two people — one from the UK and one from the US — converged on a street corner in Notting Hill on a Wednesday evening, both having seen the subtitled version of a Norwegian film.
It could take me months to find another person who saw that movie and could identify the image of the movie poster on the shirt of a passerby.
That guy should’ve stopped Clara and thanked her. Hugged her. Organized a parade for her. Paid her.
The world is a wondrous place filled with remarkable coincidence and amazing connection.
