Small World, Big Night

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By Christopher Robison
2025-08-10

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How a Random Friday Turned Into One of the Best Nights in Years

I’ve known Heath for close to 30 years. We first crossed paths in the late ’90s when we both worked for Food.com—he was in the Seattle office, I was in San Francisco. I got sent up to Seattle for work, and it happened to be May 5th, Cinco de Mayo. Naturally, I asked around the office what the plan was for celebrating. Nobody had any idea what I was talking about… except one guy: Heath.

One thing led to another, I ended up getting him a job on my team in SF, and he relocated (he’s originally from here). Over the years, we worked together at a couple of companies, clocking about 20 years side by side, including a solid 10-year run at one place.

Then came COVID. Heath moved to Portland, life happened, and I—being the terrible friend I sometimes am—didn’t visit him until three weeks ago when I was up there for Punk-in-the-Park. That was the first time we’d seen each other since he moved.

Fast forward to this past Friday. I’m out having drinks and catching up with our mutual friend Dale when we end up video chatting Heath. He’s smiling and says, “Guess where I am?” Turns out he’s not in Portland—he’s in Moraga, of all places, visiting his wife’s best friend with his family.

One thing led to another, and within the hour we’d talked him into taking BART into the city. And just like that, Friday night exploded into one of those rare, spontaneous reunions you can’t plan. Drinks, laughs, way too many stories, and that easy kind of camaraderie you only get with friends who’ve been through decades of life together.

It was a reminder I didn’t know I needed: sometimes the best nights happen when you’re not trying to make them happen. And maybe—just maybe—I should be a slightly less terrible friend.

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