What Else Am I Going to do With my Time?

Now that I'm writing a book, everything is fodder.

Oh, yeah. Now that I'm almost through (ish), I guess I'm ready to say that I'm writing a book.

Any person who stands out to me through a random experience might turn up in a scene sometime. They might not recognize themselves, but if you are in my head, you might come out sometime. Or, a version of you might come out.

The owner of an Italian restaurant we once visited was so warm and open - the epitome of "When you're here you're family", except we weren't at that chain. This guy greeted everyone with a smile and handshake, and asked your name, then handed out musical instruments and invited you to play along with the pianist. The best Italian experience of my life. And a colorful enough personality that he's easy to convey on a page.

I'm working on a character who is sort of a blend of two people I know. I'll never tell them though, because neither one is fully there, and even if I completely made a character after one person, I'm not trying to write that person, I'm really just writing my perception of things that have happened. I could be totally wrong!

For months, I've had a loose idea of a story vaguely inspired by a wide variety of experiences I have observed family and friends go through. 

So I have a new perspective on social occasions: Observer for inspiration. 
In the US, I had more social anxiety than I've had here, but I still don't love being part of big groups, and even one-on-one sometimes takes getting in the right frame of mind to get me out the door. But now I think: What will happen tonight? What will I hear that might become a character's thought? Will any tiny instance relate into a larger story? 

I think of things like the checkout girl at Target in Indy who gave me some good advice on bargain shopping. Like the guy who cut my hair once and told me about overpricing of women's hair products. Like the woman at FedEx who told me I brightened her day because I was patient and smiled. 

My book has dozens of these. Tiny instances that didn't exactly happen to me the way I write them but were inspired by something like that. 
Do you ever think of the intricate life behind that random person you interact with once or twice and never see again? What do you think happens?