30 One-In-A-Million Coincidences That Are Hard To Believe Actually Happened

The night my daughter died in a double hit-and-run in Colorado, a stranger stopped to help her and was witness to the second car that hit her, ending her life. He had been trying to help her though; he called for an ambulance and although it was ultimately unsuccessful, every effort was made to save her life. That stranger is a hero as far as I’m concerned.

The man who tried to help was very traumatized by what he had witnessed and had to change jobs so that he no longer had to daily pass by the place where my daughter died as he went to and from work. Unrelated to the accident, he and his wife got rid of their landline when they moved. I wanted very much to thank him but although I had tried every way I knew, his job had changed, he no longer had a telephone I could call 411 for and he no longer lived in the same place. I finally decided that simply being grateful would have to be enough, even if I couldn’t tell him myself.
Two years later, I’m sitting at the dinner table in a hostel in London and strike up a conversation with a guy also having dinner there. He was from the same area as me. He remembered my daughter’s death not just from it being in the news, but because the husband of one of his co-workers had stopped and tried to help the young lady.
OMG.

To make a long story short, he put me in touch with his co-worker and I was able to email her and express my thanks and gratitude for her husband’s efforts that night. She emailed me back and said that although her husband was desperately sorry he couldn’t save her, he was grateful that she didn’t have to die alone. He is a hero in my eyes and I’m so glad I got to let him know how grateful our family is. May he and his loved ones be abundantly blessed.

I was headed in for a job interview several years back. As I'm walking in, two other men are approaching the door from different angles. One of them speeds up to cut off the other and get in the door first, and the other walks in, shaking his head in disbelief. As I walk in behind them, the first guy runs to the elevator and presses the button, not holding the elevator for the other guy and me. Again, the second guy just shakes his head and we wait for the next elevator. I say "Can you believe some people?" And we both chuckle a little bit.

As it turns out, we are headed to the same floor, so we get off the elevator together. As we walk into an office, there is guy #1 Mr Impatient, standing at the desk tapping his foot as the receptionist is finishing up a phone call. The receptionist asks him "can I help you?" And he says "I'm here to see Mr Smith for an interview at 3:30." (it's currently 2:50).

I think to myself "Great, this guy is interviewing for the same position I am and he will act like the sweetest guy during the interview." I lean over and tell the receptionist "I am Mr Smith’s 3 o'clock interview." Mr Impatient GLARES at me.

The other guy I walked in with (the one Mr Impatient cut off) then says "Hey gentlemen, I'm Mr Smith." And turns to Mr Impatient and says "you don't need to wait around. I've already determined you are not a good fit for our company. "

I got the job.

Back in the 1980’s, a friend of mine was working on a paper about some of the action in WWII. One of the incidents he was working on involved an American unit with a British officer seconded to it. He needed more information about the officer, and had no idea how to do that. Someone suggested contacting the Imperial War Museum in London to see if they could provide a lead or source on how to find him. So, he got on the phone and called the Imperial War Museum. He asked the person who answered the phone how he could locate an officer from WWII, and was asked if he knew the man's name and unit. He gave them, and the response was: “Speaking.”

In one of the most incredible phone calls in history, he had actually reached the officer who had left the service and gone to work for the Museum, and happened to be walking by a desk when the phone rang. The secretary was away from her desk for a few moments when he happened to walk by and answered the phone.

I once stopped to help a guy change a tire. He had an arm in a sling and two very young kids in his car. He thanked me saying he didn't want to hurt his arm any more and wanted to get back to work.

Fast forward three months and I'm in a very ugly motorcycle wreck. One of the EMTs noticed my back was broken. Had they continued I'd have been paralyzed. His quick thinking prevented that.

After I recovered I got to meet the EMT crew that saved my life.

The guy that noticed my back was broken? The guy whose tire I had changed.

When my brother died, it took 2 years before I could afford to spread his ashes at the family plot at a remote cemetery in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia because I couldn’t afford to fly there. Until I could get there, his ashes sat in their box in my family room in Delaware. When we finally traveled north, my husband and two cousins accompanied me to the cemetery. We planned to spread some of his ashes by my father and grandparents’ headstone and then place the rest in the brook that runs through the graveyard out to the sea. It was an overcast, misty day on the Cape Breton coast. We got out of the car and began walking to my father’s gravestone when we suddenly heard music. We all stopped, wondering from where it came. Lo and behold, it was my cell phone. Somehow, the google play app had activated. Now, just so you know, I rarely use google play on my phone, I had not activated it, and I always keep my phone on priority only silence. However, it was playing music. When I pulled it from my jacket pocket, I realized it was playing The Rankin Family - a Canadian band who my brother not only loved but who he had introduced to me well before they became known in the US. The band’s music had always been a common bond for us. Then, the song was one I had never heard before, and it was about someone going away forever. Needless to say, my husband, cousins, and I were just a little freaked out. But, in the end, I knew it was my brother’s way of saying goodbye. I will never forget it.

Strange encounter in Thailand
I was traveling to Thailand alone, for the first time. When I arrived, I stopped by Khao San Road (one of the more popular streets in Bangkok) for a bite. I’m waiting in line for some food, and say hi to a cute girl who was in line behind me.

HER: “Where are you from?”
ME: “New York, you?”
HER: “Israel. Where in New York?”
ME: “A place called Riverdale, in the Bronx.”
HER: “Oh cool… is your mom Daphne?”
ME: “ :: looks of disbelief:: YES… how in the heck…“

Turns out she was my babysitter when I was a baby. Her family left New York when she was young to move back to Israel. 25 years later, we bump into each other in Thailand…

38 years ago I had to go into London for an interview. The job was for 3 times existing salary and I was nervous so set off early, driving down the M4 and planning to park at Hammersmith and get the tube to their offices near Leicester Square (now a MacDonalds).

I didn’t usually drive into London so stopped my MG Midget at the petrol station at Hammersmith to fill up and ask where there was a car park. As I went to pay a man entered in an obvious hurry so I stepped aside and said “You go first. I’m in no hurry.”. He paid, thanked me and left. I paid, parked and caught the tube to my interview.

Yes, you guessed it. The man in a hurry was my interviewer and he recognized me, hired me and I spent an interesting time in the USA working in Georgia, Ohio and Manhattan, New York.

Sometimes Karma can take a while to arrive, but in this case my politeness to a man in a hurry gave me almost immediate payback.

So one day I lost my dog, Marko. He's the most adorable and adventurous corgi ever and he got out of the house and ran away. However, I wasn't heartbroken for long because I eventually got a voicemail from a neighbor further down the street, (let's call her Sarah Hall) saying she found my dog and her kids were bringing him over. Thank God his dog tag had my name, phone number, and address.

Anyway, half a year later I was walking Marko in my neighborhood and he came across a black dog running around the front of the houses, just sniffing around the bushes. The dog sees Marko and they do their dog thing, sniffing each other's butts and getting along right off the bat. This dog had no collar and seemed lost. As I walked Marko back home, it followed us home since I guess it had nowhere to go. I took him in and called him Kaiba while Marko was just so happy to have a friend spend the night. The next day I set out to post up lost dog posters when I see a family I never met before already posting up posters looking for this dog. It was perfect timing and they were so relieved I had him. It turns out his name was Bruiser and the story goes, they were just friends of the family that owned Bruiser. Apparently the original family moved away to the other side of town, Bruiser escaped, but rather than finding his way back to the new house, he was able to trek all the way back to the neighborhood they used to live, where I found him. I bid Bruiser/Kaiba a fond farewell and kept one of the posters as a memento.

I thought that was a great end to the story, but then later I'm clearing out my voicemail history while waiting in line at Disney when I remember Sarah Hall’s voicemail. Something clicked. After a fun day at the theme park, I went home, grabbed the poster and saw the name at the bottom, “If found, please call Sarah Hall…” The number was the same and I was just in awe. She finds my dog and then half a year later, I find her dog and it all comes full circle.

I was awoken from my hazy sleep one morning with a frantic call from a good friend of mine.

He informed me about how his car was stolen that morning and filled me in on all the details. How they broke in, how he’s called the cops, etc. All the boring stuff. He ends with jokingly “Keep your eye out for it”. Yeah right I thought, it is most likely already trashed. We hang up and I begin my day as usual.

Lunchtime arrived and I decided to go home to eat, about 5 mins drive. On the way home in the car, I received a call from my friend. Just a catch up call, nothing to do with the stolen car.

As we are speaking, I pass a car heading the opposite direction that looked familiar. I asked my friend the licence of his stolen car, did a u-turn and proceeded to catch up to the car I saw, all the while still on the phone with my friend.

I caught up with it and yep, it was definitely his car. Long story short, I chased the car down while my friend was in another car on the phone to me and the cops at the same time, directing the cops to my location. It ended with a heap of police cars converging on the stolen car, pulling the thieving s**m from it and locking them up.

So basically, his car was stolen in the morning and I found it at the same time as talking with him later that day. Not much of an amazing coincidence I suppose, but still a cool one in my opinion.

This happened to me yesterday.

I was at a bar in Oceanside California and noticed one of the barbacks was wearing a shirt with a silhouette of Ohio on it. I grew up in Ohio, so I asked where he was from:

“I’m from Cleveland.”

“Me too. A little south of it.”

“We actually know each other. You trained me at a restaurant and gave me my first AFI album”

I’m 33 years old. When I was 19 or 20 I trained this 16 year old kid named Pete how to bus tables at an Italian restaurant — and apparently gave him an AFI album (which probably explains why I can’t find it). That he recognized me after over a decade and that we both happened to be in the same place in a random bar in Southern California is pretty incredible to me.

I was visiting Aberdeen on a business trip from London. Checking out of the hotel I was sitting in the lobby and waiting for the taxi.

A gentleman next to me asks where I am from. When I reply I am visiting from London but originally from Pakistan, he told me he was originally from India but based in Birmingham for more than 40 years and had a very good friend from Pakistan that he lost touch with 20 years ago when they were together in London.

With our taxis in sight, we get up and I just ask his friend’s name. The lost friend is my parent’s next door neighbour.

Before getting into our taxis, we exchange numbers and 30 mins later these friends were in touch on the phone.

I was in a casino and a mother and son sat down at slot machines on either side of me. They were have a loud conversation and the sons phone kept ringing over and over but he kept declining the calls. Turns out he was leaving his wife that day and he spent 30 minutes talking about how horrible she was and his mom throwing in her 2 cents.

Finally as a joke I said “let me answer the phone”, so he laughed and gave it to me. When she called back I said who is this, turns out it was my sister and the man was my brother in law. My sister started screaming at me to get away from her husband. I have 7 sisters and this one I had not talked to in 5 years due to some stupid argument we had.

She divorced him and her and I are now best friends, Funny how life works. We laugh about this a lot.

My mother-in-law, Sara, is a survivor of the N**i h*******t in Europe. A Polish born Jew, she’s the only survivor of her entire nuclear and extended family. She and her husband Wolf, also a survivor, settled in Argentina after the war and lived a life that was anything but easy.

Twenty years ago, fifty years after the war, fearing that the Nazis were coming to get her, she sunk into a profound depression, a breakdown that transformed a delightful, attractive and very giving person into a helpless, tragic shadow of who she used to be, unable to take care of herself and totally dependant upon the loving care of her husband, Wolf.

When my wife and I in Toronto, Canada got the unexpected call that her father was just days away from dying of lung cancer, a student of mine happened to be in my office to purchase something. She told my wife and me that her husband had recently died of lung cancer and asked if we would like the name of an organization that she found to be an extremely helpful source of information about lung cancer. We of course said yes and she promised to call the next morning with the telephone number.

My wife and I went home, spoke to family in Argentina and that night booked her on the next flight to Buenos Airies in two days.

The next morning I called Immigration Canada to find what we needed to do to bring my mother-in-law into Canada after her husband passes on. I was mortified to speak with a classic bureaucrat who gave me the impression that it was going to be challenging and perhaps impossible to bring Sara into Canada because of her mental condition. This was very disconcerting to say the least.

Since my wife was an only child and had no one who could take care of her mother, the prospect was that my wife might have to stay in Argentina to look after her, perhaps for months or more, until we could sort out this situation.

I was dejected when I hung up the phone and before I could even reflect on the new complication in my life, I received a call from my student, Lois, with the telephone number of the lung cancer organization.

I thanked her and even before I had a chance to tell of my mother-in-law’s plight, she asked me if I needed an immigration lawyer. I said that after my previous conversation minutes earlier with Immigration Canada, an immigration lawyer would probably be most useful.

Lois was an editor at Canada’s most respected newspaper and recommended Arnold, a friend and former journalist at the same paper who went on to become an immigration lawyer. She gave me Arnold’s name and phone number and I told her that I will call him as soon as I return from the Immigration Canada office. I had to go there and pick up an application form to start the immigration process for my mother-in-law.

I hung up the phone, took the elevator down to the street which I crossed and entered the nearby subway entrance. My mind was racing. My heart was aching. I was full of fear. I could feel my body tightening up as I ruminated on what we could do if Sara was unable to get into Canada.

When I got onto the train I immediately started to meditate in order to quiet my emotions and clear my mind. I could feel the anxiety dissipating as I went deeper into meditation. In the distance I heard the transit announcement name the station and heard people coming into the subway car.

Then I heard a voice call my name and say “Stop meditating and say hello to me”. I opened my eyes and saw Mary, an old acquaintance who was on a committee with me a decade earlier, and we started talking.

Needless to say, I started telling her about how distraught I was in learning that I might not be able to bring my mother-in-law into Canada. We talked for a couple of subway stops when a stranger who was standing next to us excused himself and said that he couldn’t help but overhear our conversation. He said that I shouldn’t worry about being able to bring my mother-in-law into Canada because she would definitely be admitted on “compassionate grounds”. I asked him how he knew that and he said that he was an immigration lawyer.

I turned to my acquaintance and said what good fortune that an immigration lawyer should by chance hear our conversation on the subway and give me a free consultation that could instantly lower my anxiety.

The lawyer then said that he was getting off at the next stop and I thanked him for his generous advice and asked him for his business card. As he was getting off the train, he handed me his card through the door and I discovered that it was none other than Arnold, the lawyer whose name was given to me by Lois not more than 20 minutes earlier.

As the subway door was starting to close I said “Arnold! I just got your name from Lois!” He said, “Are you Eli? Call me later this afternoon” and the subway pulled out of the station.

I continued the trip to Immigration Canada without any fear. I now “knew” that things would work out. I had been given the sign that everything would be alright.

I hired Arnold’s legal services and, as he said, I had no trouble bringing Sara into the country on compassionate grounds.

But just consider what the odds might be that just minutes after Lois referred me to Arnold, that he should randomly be standing next to me in a busy subway car in the fifth largest city in North America, overhearing a conversation that would not have happened if an old acquaintance had not come upon me and rather rudely interrupted my meditation.

Late one night, George and I sat up playing backgammon and talking. We’d spent many nights like this one—playing past midnight and telling each other stories.

This particular night the topic was, “unbelievably stupid things people we knew had done.” Like backgammon, our storytelling was fiercely competitive. George told such good tales that I was finally forced to pull the ace from my sleeve: the story of Uncle Louie. You see, Uncle Louie did something downright brain-dead. Let me see if I can explain.

It happened at one of those noisy family gatherings—Christmas I think. All the family had gathered together at Mama Tencha’s. Everyone was crowded into her steamy little apartment in the Ukrainian neighborhood.

Uncle Louie, being the youngest unmarried son, still lived at home even though he was a grown man. He participated in questionable activities. Strange smelling smoke leaked out of his room from time to time. He hung out at the margins, coming and going at all hours of the day and night. But because he was family, his rascally ways were entirely overlooked.

During this particular gathering, Uncle Louie got a pain—like a stomach ache. At first Mama Tencha and the rest of the family suggested the usual litany of home remedies— the Pepto, the bi-carb. But Louie wasn’t having any of it. Not him. He was going to be fine.

When Louie began looking a little green around the gills and took to his bed, the family grew more concerned. Maybe a heating pad or some of Mama Tencha’s hot tea?

“No, Ma. I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna sleep it off.”

When Louie began to writhe and moan a bit, the family grew increasingly disconcerted. Several relatives suggested he should visit the doctor or the emergency room.

But Louie said, “no.” He wouldn’t go. They might as well stop bothering him about it. He would be fine in the morning.

In the morning Louie no longer had any problems. Of any kind. The autopsy revealed that he’d died of a massive infection, the result of an untreated ruptured appendix.

It was a family tragedy, Louie dying like that, but nevertheless, George and I cracked up. We couldn’t stop laughing. What a fool Uncle Louie had been! What a dufus! He’d been too macho to get help. You’ve really got to be an idiot to go like that.

Uncle Louie’s story obviously won that night’s contest. George and I were still smirking when he left to go home, defeated, but happy.

The next morning the phone rang and woke me up. It was George who said, “You won’t believe where I am.”

“Where are you?

“I’m in the hospital.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief. “Are you okay?” I was alarmed.

“Yeah, but listen to what happened. When I got home last night I went right to bed, but I was having trouble sleeping because my stomach hurt.”

“I tried to ignore it and just go to sleep—but it got worse. When it got even worse, I was still gonna tough it out because it was so late. That and I absolutely hate going to doctors. I’ll admit it. I’m pretty macho. But then I remembered how stupid Uncle Louie had been and decided maybe I’d better have it checked out.”

“When the doctor in the emergency room told me that I had appendicitis, I called my sister, who’s a medical student and asked her to come. She watched during the surgery. She told me that the doctor said I had the most inflamed appendix they’d ever seen that hadn’t ruptured yet.”

“I guess I was pretty lucky. I might have died. Thanks for telling me about Uncle Louie.”

It’s remarkable how life works. Even doing something terribly stupid can end up serving someone years after you’ve died. Redemption can occur spontaneously. Contribution can happen unexpectedly. Grace arises from absurdity. A story can save your life. Thank you Uncle Louie.

I’ve been wanting to tell this story on Quora for awhile now!!

About 5 or 6 years ago, I was in Hawaii with my family. The weather can change quickly there, so although the sun was shining, it soon began to rain.

We got some mixed rain and sunshine.

My dad commented on it: “Wow, sunny rain!”
A nearby lady turned around and said, “What?”
We were all confused and she asked, “Do I know you?”
We were like, “No…” I mean, why would we know this random person in Hawaii? We’re just on vacation.
She said, “You called my name.” What, no, we totally didn’t???

Her name was Sunny Rain.

I have always loved history.

When I was 12, I got a brand new social studies book, filled with pictures and charts. I remember pawing through it, fascinated, and I remember a particular photo of a white-haired, old man, sitting in a wheel barrow in front of the first oil derrick ever dug in Pennsylvania.

Fifteen years later, I got married. After the wedding, my father-in-law sent me a clipping in the mail, including that same photograph: the man in the photo was my husband's great-great-great-uncle.

What are the odds that as a child, I’d see a photo of a relative of the man I would someday marry?

This is mother of all coincidences. Or that is how I wish to define it.

It was year 1982. I was working as a trainee in a Chartered Accountant’s (CPA equivalent in India) office.

My boss had called me for a meeting to his office.

When I reached there at the appointed time, he was held up in another meeting with a client. As I waited for him to call me, I looked around his office.

My eyes fixated on a bookshelf. “Wow!” I thought, “this man really reads a lot”. Usually in a Chartered Accountant’s office you see lots of books related to Company Law and Income Tax. In his book shelf there were several other books - fiction and non-fiction.

Even as I was looking at the bookshelf, one book that was kept on a table near the bookshelf caught my attention.

The title of that book? “Incredible Coincidence” - The Baffling World of Synchronicity by Alan Vaughan - Author of Patterns of Prophecy.

The book cover highlighted (I am now typing this seeing the book cover, so don’t appreciate me for my vivid memory) “The man who found King Tut’s Tomb dies and the lights go out in Cairo”, “A housewife finds a ring she lost forty years before - Inside a Potato”, “A Bullet finds its mark twenty years after it was fired - by accident”.

Now, tell me, if you were there in that place, will you not pick that book to read?

I did exactly that.

I can tell you it was a page turner for I read about 25 pages quickly. It was engrossing and the coincidences mentioned were nothing short of incredible.

But as luck would have it, my boss called me in. I went for the discussion, came out and left his office not having the courage to ask him lend that book to me. Incredibly, the book was also not there on the table. His assistants must have kept it back in the shelf.

The above narrated incident happened in Chennai, Tamilnadu, India.

The memory of this book stayed with me for very long. Fast forward seven years to 1989. I became a Chartered Accountant and had moved to New Delhi, India. Whenever I visited a bookshop I used to search for this book. I never found that book. One day, I had to visit a bank for a meeting. After the meeting I left for my house. As I was engrossed in some thoughts I missed my regular route.

I realized I had taken the wrong route only when I saw the unfamiliar shop sign boards on either side of the road. I immediately stopped and took the next turn to get back to my regular route. Even as I was turning my vehicle, I saw a bookshop. I thought, I will get there to browse and see if there were any new books from my favorite author Jeffrey Archer.

I went into the bookshop to look. Strangely I didn’t find any Jeffrey Archer books there. I was surprised how a popular writer’s books were not there in that shop. I inquired the counter clerk. He said “Sir! books are arranged in alphabetical order of author names. “J” is upstairs”. He pointed to a small spiral staircase in the corner.

I walked to the spiral stair case to get upstairs. Even as I walked my shoulder rubbed a rotating bookshelf kept near the staircase. And the bookshelf rotated by the impact.

I was two steps into the stair case and right at my eye level the bookshelf showed the book “Incredible Coincidence” - The Baffling World of Synchronicity by Alan Vaughan”

Isn’t it a strange coincidence? What else took me to that bookshop on that day when the book was available?

Wayne Dyer says “If you really really really want something, you will get it”

I did get…

Didn’t I?

I still can't believe it!

Once I went for an examination. 15 mins were left for the commencement of exams. So, I thought it's better to interact with the guy seated beside. And it goes this way…

Me: Hey, I'm Anish.
He: Wait, What? Even my name is Anish.
Me: Surname?
He: George! (Anish George)
Me: Even my full name is Anish George! Wow!
He: Woho, what a coincidence? Suddenly he gazed at my screen and said, “No way, it can't happen!”
Me: Hey, what happened?
He: We share our birthday on the same date and year.

I was insanely surprised!!

Later, many similarities were revealed except he wasn't my doppelganger. Sigh..

Cheers!

Years ago I was driving down the expressway when there was a loud BANG from under the hood and the car decelerated quickly. I pulled to a stop in the emergence lane and began considering my options. It was raining, so the prospect of even looking under the hood didn't seem appealing, and I didn't have any tools with me in any event, and certainly didn't have the parts to fix whatever had obviously broken. This was before cell phones, so while I knew my father was home and could come to my assistance calling him meant I would have to find my way off the expressway, which had a chain-link fence down both sides. I looked around and noticed that a car had run off the road and knocked down the chain link fence just a few yards away. Better yet, there appeared to be a residential street just beyond the fence, so I got out of the car, hopped the remains of the fence, and found myself in a small cul de sac with a choice of three or four houses nearby. Choosing one at random, I walked up to the door and knocked. "Dave, what are you doing here?" The person who answered was Troy, a co-worker from several years earlier. I explained, and of course he loaned me his phone so that I could call my father. I then went back to the car to wait for my father and the tow truck he said he would call. While I was waiting, an electric utility truck pulled in behind me and the driver turned his emergency lights on. I got out of the car and ran back to the truck to tell the driver someone was already on the way, and it was our next-door neighbor from about 15 years earlier!

Once when a class of tenth graders and I were discussing Edgar Allan Poe’s poem “The Raven,” an actual raven landed on the tree outside of my classroom and started cawing loudly … no kidding! The students and I lost it!

I’ve taught in that room for almost twenty years, and I can’t remember another time when a raven has landed in that tree, let alone under such specific circumstances.