The guy in front of me in line for customs at the SFO airport pointed to a different guy at the window talking to the customs agent and said to his girlfriend, “I know that guy.”

“I know his face, but I don’t know his name. He went to my high school.”

“He tried out for the wrestling team.”

“His friends and my friends were in the same group but we never met each other.”

“You know those type of people? People you know but you don’t know,” he asked his girlfriend.

“Yea,” she said. “I know those type of people.”

The guy in line continued to look at the guy at the window and then he said, “Maybe it’s not him.”