Doppelganger

Hey Tony,

I totally saw your doppelganger last weekend! I stopped my bike and was going to go and say hi but once I got close enough I realized it wasn’t you. Good thing I didn’t holler or anything.

 J

This happens to me more and more these days. Quit going out and having a life, Rich! But seriously folks, a few years ago I was alerted that there was one or two guys in town that had a pretty good passing resemblance, to myself. These days, a very nice guy, named Rich, seems to unknowingly, get me credit, to being at places I have not been.

Back in May, I went to London with friends, blogged about it, and took some pictures. I returned to San Francisco, to a flurry of emails and people stopping me on the street about my picture in the Chronicle. “That was a great shot,” they said,  “you haven’t seen it?” I envisioned a tired face at the airport “was there a bomb threat?” No. It was an event in the city, the unveiling of the Harvey Milk bust and it was the day I was actually flying back. According to friends and acquaintances, I was there. One guy, flat out told me, “you’re trying to gaslight me. That was you in the paper.” I laughed, not because of the situation but because I love term gaslighting and rarely ever hear it.

What? Should I carry around my boarding pass for that day? Many people did not believe me. It was a funny situation. At some point I gave in and started agreeing, “Yeah they got my good side.“

The above email I got, a couple of days ago from one of my outfielders (softball) that saw Rich (and not me) at an event and almost tapped him on the shoulder. Tap away folks and say hello. We’re both nice guys and will tell you if you’ve got the right person.

All I can say is I sincerely hope, we are never in a police lineup together.

Look both ways before you go to sleep

The black private cab was going fast enough, for me, not to be aware of where I was going. The driver could only speak Spanish. There was some communication but it was limited. We were running errands for my dad. The specifics of the errands were fuzzy and also there was not one time that I got out of the car.

The sun was going down and for some reason, I could see better in the vehicle. The driver was wearing a black suit and his Spanish was very slow and deliberate. Was it for my benefit? I could definitely understand a faster speaker. Whatever?

He looked back at me, "okay, end of the day, end of the road, I call your father." He was going to find out where to drop me off. I found this news to be utterly reasonable. He chatted with my dad, on the phone, for a few seconds then hung up. I said nothing. My phone rang.

My dad's voice was fine, like nothing happened: "tonito...tonito." I responded evenly, "hey pop." There was small talk, then baseball talk, ending with my dad's usual, final exclamation: "ah they stink," (he said in English) referring to a sports team but revealing the New Yorker, within the Puerto Rican. He asked about mom and I told him, she's having a tough time. "You have to watch her now. Don't forget your mother."

The road the driver was taking was bumpy, like some ride. I almost lost the phone, "Papi!" "Si Tony," he said. I paused and he said, "he's going to take you home. You guys need to check in on your mother. Your cousin is not doing to well either." "Cousin," I said and opened my eyes.