Dig back about 13 years, and you'll find that I used to live in the middle of Utah. (I know, I know) I was a week away from my 20th birthday, and I had yet to do anything with my life. I wasn't going to college, or even had a job lined up. I was invited by a friend to spend a few days, and discovered the rent was really cheap.
It felt more like running away from home than moving out, but that's another story.
I did a lot of swing dancing. A lot as in the group I found that officially danced every Saturday would also gather several times during the week at other appointed times and do likewise. I make no claim to being good at Lindy Hop, but I enjoyed myself immensely. I also met a lot of people. Made a lot of friends.
I only lived out there for 15 months. The start of one summer to the end of the next. I didn't think I would be back in NY for very long, expecting to return within a few months. Didn't happen. I wasn't expecting to lose touch with, well, almost everyone. It was years later (about 7 or so) that I started to find a few here and there on facebook. Some others, though, not so much.
It's a somewhat melancholy thought, that there are people I may never see again.
