"I'm going to a place called Macon?"

Just now I was reading TrailJournals.com and I thought of an encounter in north Georgia with a hiker from Germany. This would have been 1990 or '91, when I lived in Macon. Before I (sort of) quit hiking in the woods by myself, I used to take off for the A.T. in Georgia or North Carolina. So one day I was at a trail crossing in north Georgia and this scraggly guy came off the trail. We exchanged pleasantries and the guy said he'd been hiking south from New Jersey. I asked him where he was headed when he was finished (in a few days' time) and he said, "I'm going to a place called Macon?" with that lilt in the voice, when the person isn't sure how to say a word.
So I said: "I live in Macon!
He asked me for my number. I was kind of leery, of course, so I wrote down a number that was one digit off my real number.
Well a few months went by, and I forgot about it. One day I was driving back to my apartment, glanced in my rearview mirror and saw THE VERY SAME GUY walking down the road. I knew this because he was waving frantically. (He recognized my car.) I kept going, not about to stop. Turns out, he had moved into the SAME EXACT apartment complex where I was living; and he did wave me down outside one day. He then said, "I kept trying to call you but the number was wrong."
So see, friends, if you lie (even if it might be for a good reason, like protecting yourself from a suspected pervert), the person from another country who hikes hundreds of miles and then moves to your own city will track you down. Happens all the time.