Thank you, NetZero!

Thank you, NetZero!

I never thought I’d say those words out loud, much less write them in public, but here we are. Life is funny like that. It takes the most inconvenient moments, the ones wrapped in dial-up static and pop-up ads, and somehow turns them into milestones.

It was Thanksgiving, and I was one of the unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you read the story) students with nowhere to go. Campus emptied out like someone had pulled a fire alarm for the entire school. I stayed behind, armed with homework, a quiet dorm, and the ancient symphony of dial-up Internet.

Back then, hearing that chirping, screeching dial-up sound wasn’t a joke. It was a lifeline. If you heard it, you were in. And if you weren’t at school, you were on your own. This is where NetZero, the unlikely hero of this tale, stepped in to grant us 40 free hours a month. The price? Clicking on a parade of ads like our grades depended on it.

So there I was, half asleep, clicking on mindless ads just to keep my Internet oxygen flowing. A few little questions popped up. I answered them. Why not? I had homework to do and an ad bar demanding my obedience.

A moment later, a message appeared asking if I wanted to save a profile. "Sure," I said. I wasn’t trying to build my destiny; I was trying to finish a research paper.

Hours later, when I logged back in, I found an email from someone calling himself telscot: “Hello! I think we can get along.”

My response was simple, honest, and academically stressed: “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I don’t know how we can get along, and I am busy.”

And then, somehow, messages started flying across the country like two birds who accidentally migrated into each other’s path. Terry, it turned out, was bored, online, and skipping traveling back home for Thanksgiving for the very first time.

And that was it. The quiet beginning. The unexpected spark. The moment fate pressed “Enter.”

Thanksgiving became our anniversary, not because we planned it, but because life nudged us toward each other through a free Internet plan and a few intrusive ads.

This year, I’m spending the holiday differently. But when I think about that night, I can almost hear Terry laughing, somewhere just beyond the noise, shaking his head at how it all began.

And I smile, grateful for every unlikely thread that wove us together.