One thing about being at Stanford is that you never know who you are going to run into next. You keep hearing conversations such as:
“I almost ran over a Nobel laureate. Pray he doesn’t remember me.”
“Look that’s Mark Zuckerberg in the Gates basement. Nvm it’s just another dude wearing hoodie.”
I myself have had several surreal experiences. The tall, buff man I talked to while waiting in a line turned out to be a Pulitzer Prizer winner. The nerdy guy whose fried chickens I stole all the time was actually the world’s second youngest chess grandmaster. I googled the strange Math professor who lectured with his eyes closed and found out he was a celebrated magician.