Have you ever been in a situation where someone recognizes you, calls you by your first name, maybe even goes on and on as if y’all are longtime buddies — and you don’t have a clue who they are?

I was in Simpson County on Monday for a property inspection for a land appraisal. It’s commercial land on Highway 49, and the Mendenhall city limit boundary runs down the middle of the property, so that about half of it is within the Mendenhall municipal boundaries (and thus subject to a zoning ordinance), and half of it is in the County (which has no zoning).

Anyway, I pulled over to take some photos of the property. The shoulder was very steep and covered with white limestone, which made me kind of nervous, not to mention the traffic, which was barreling past me at 70+ miles per hour. As I’m walking up and down the shoulder taking pictures, I heard someone call out to me.

“Wyatt!”

It took me a minute to locate the voice.

“Hey, Wyatt!”

On the opposite shoulder of the highway, across a very wide and very deep median, a man was calling out to me from his white Toyota Tundra four-wheel-drive pickup. His truck was equipped with bright green flashing lights, the sort that are common for construction vehicles in Mississippi.

I squinted as he drove away from me, wondering who he might be. Having spent much of my life in Central Mississippi, it wouldn’t be unusual for me to come across an old friend or acquaintance in Simpson County.

The man drove his truck about 100 yards farther before he entered the median and then emerged onto my side of the highway. About 20 seconds later, a construction worker in a yellow safety vest pulled up beside me.

“Hey, man — you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just appraising this property here.”

“Okay. Cuz I saw you pulled over — I thought you might be broke down. It’s too hot for a man to be stranded on the highway.”

“Naw, I’m good. How are you?”

He was fine, too, of course. He told me they were getting rid of the turnaround just west of the property I was appraising because there had been so many wrecks there. It was just on the other side of a hill. I got a selfie with him before he left.

Who was that guy? I have no idea. At least I don’t know his name. He sure knew who I was, though. Which ought to make me feel pretty good, I guess. Like that line from the “Cheers” theme song:

“That's where you want to go -- where everybody knows your name.”

I’ve since shown that picture to several friends and some of my family. No one knows who he is, but they all think he looks very familiar. One of them told me, “Judging by the shape of his face, he looks like a David.”

So here’s to you, David — or whatever your name is. Thanks for watching out for me.