But no! Despite a decent-ish friendship back home, it wasn't strong enough for more than a five-minute chit-chat of "Wow, what are the odds? Whereabouts are you guys staying? Oh well, see you later."
My strangest encounter came in Fiji several years back. While waiting in line at Customs, I spotted someone I hadn't seen since primary school. I was 90 per cent certain of who it was and plucking up some courage, I said hello, ensuring I said my full name in case they didn't recognise me. Relief — it was them. Further relief, they remembered me and a good little chat ensued. Indeed, that chat became even livelier when we realised we were staying at the same resort. "You wouldn't read about it!" I probably said, before suggesting we shared a taxi there.
Given it was a one-hour drive from the airport, this made total sense and I offered to halve the cost despite there being two of them and one of me. My old chum shot a look to her partner, the partner — with fire in their eyes — mentioned something unconvincing about their cab already being booked and therefore incapable of taking an extra passenger, and my bright idea of a ride share was quashed.
Pretending I fully understood and with our conversation now deflated of all its reminiscing urgency, we made our way through Customs and into our separate taxis. What followed was a seething hour through the Fijian countryside with the two taxis driving in a friendless convoy. With it being clear the partner had not wanted any outsider butting in on their romantic couples' holiday, we wasted petrol, money and basic humanity by taking two cars to the same destination.
Even my taxi driver couldn't understand why they didn't offer me a seat and it's fair to say check-in at the resort was the opposite of comfortable:
"How was the trip from the airport?"
"Just the same as theirs', only twice the cost".
Whether I actually said that to the staff is moot, but perhaps it was karma for hiding from that relieving teacher back in the 90s. What if she'd seen me and had wanted to talk to that nice little geek Timmy Roxborogh? Only Timmy Roxborogh is cowering in a flax bush with his polar fleece and gigantic glasses poking through. Forgive me!
Tim Roxborogh hosts Newstalk ZB's Weekend Collective and blogs at RoxboroghReport.com