A time-traveling encounter shows how things have changed

It started, as these things usually do, unexpectedly.

I was walking across the garage to my car after work and suddenly he was  next to me. A younger me, from 1985, the year I married Mrs. Brad.

I was startled, but didn't want to scare myself.

"What was that?" the younger me asked.

"What?"

"Did that car beep at you?"

"It's unlocked," I told me. "Because of the key fob."

The younger me was befuddled. By my Toyota Prius, by the word "fob," by the fact that I look like an old man. He apparently knew he was seeing a future version of himself.

"What year is it?" the younger me asked, speeding up the process of getting to the point of this column.

"It's 2019."

The younger me continued to get to the point, since I only have about 600 words in a column. He said he bumped his head that morning and woke up in my office building, confounded by the people around him. He saw me and thought I was his father, then realized I was the future him.

He began walking next to me.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere?" I asked. I knew he lived hundreds of miles north with the younger Mrs. Brad. I remembered that part of life.

"Let's just ride around in this spaceship," he said, laughing. "This is awesome."

The younger version of me said awesome a lot. He looked at my phone as we began driving.

"What's that?"

"It's Waze. It helps with directions."

"Like a map?"

"Yeah."

Then I started a music app, which played through my car's system.

"Your Waze plays music, too? Sweet." The younger me said "sweet" a lot.

He sang along with "One Night in Bangkok," ("I get my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine!") as I explained smartphones to him, told him we can now take phones with us, that long-distance calls are free and tried to explain the concept of texting. And yes, I had "One Night in Bangkok" playing on my phone.

We began talking about changes. He was fascinated. About streaming services and that few people bought music anymore. About the Giants winning three World Series titles. About hybrid cars.

"I'm not sure if I can ask this, but are Mrs. Brad and I still married?" he asked. He didn't call her Mrs. Brad yet–that column bit started about 15 years into his future–but let's go with that.

"Yeah. You're still . . . we're still married. Happily. I think."

We both laughed and he said, "sweet," because I said that in 1985.

"Well, I bet one thing never changes," he said. "Relationships, right? (Mrs. Brad) and I just got married and that's probably pretty much the same."

"Well, kind of, although that's different."

I told the younger me about the increase in "destination weddings" and that bachelor and bachelorette parties are now frequently get-away, expensive events.

"Wait. You go out of town? That's seems crazy," he said. "Mine was one night with my friends. In town."

That's not all, I told him. People now have "babymoons," before their first child and "baby sprinkles" to get gifts for their second child. They  choreograph dances at weddings and post videos of them on social media.

"Social media?" he asked. "What's social media?"

There was much more to discuss, so I told him the column was done and we'd finish the discussion next week.

"Sweet. I love cliffhangers," he said. "Like 'Who killed J.R.' on Dallas. Awesome."

There was more to talk about, which you will see next week.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.