Let me get this out of the way, first: My name is Adam, and I've had a history of swallowing to excess highly-addictive and chronically-toxic beverages, also known as beer and liquor. And mixed drinks. (But none with umbrellas. Or straws. Because that would be thilly.)As a result of my compulsion to imbibe, I have taken Steps to combat the problem. It goes like this: A bunch of people gather around a table, or in a circle of chairs, and they relay their stories and listen to others relay their stories about the horrors--and sometimes comedy--of Addiction and the ways in which they deal widdit. Oftentimes, coffee is served. To-day, there was cake. (I ate some frosting and nothing else.)
The table at which I was sitting included about ten people, both men and women. A dude showed up late and pulled a chair from the corner, and sat down. I glanced at him and then did a double-take. The guy looked EXACTLY like my Grandad. Which was odd, you see, because my Grandad has been dead for nigh upon 15 years. Something like that.
The similarities were amazing. Simply amazing, and I kept stealing glances at the fellow to see if, maybe, I had overestimated his doppelgangerness. (It's a word. Seriously. Okay, maybe not.) Every time I looked at him, he looked more and more like my Grandad. Except he had hair; albeit it had the essence of a toupee.
What was it about the guy that looked so familiar? The eyebrows, first. Arched and thin, they were my Grandad's eyebrows on another man. (That sounded bad, for some reason.) He wore glasses and they were perched atop a somewhat-bulbous nose. Again, doppelgangeracity. (It's a word. Mos' def.) Then what? Well, the eyes were the same, too. This is too easy to pass up: My Grandad's eyes were on another man. (Now that definitely sounded bad.) They were the same size and shape; kinda squinty, a little simian. The guy stood up to get some cake and coffee.
The similarities ended. His was a pear-shaped body whilst my Grandad's body had been athletic his whole life, right up until the end. More dissimilarities: The guy, Allen--and his age was incredibly tough to gauge, though I'm usually pretty good at that, but he had to be in his 60s--fancied himself a ladies' man, I think. Of any age. He was scoping, scoping, scoping the entire meeting, be they in their 20s or be they in their 40s--he was giving them the once-over. And twice-over. And the ole up-n-down. I found it funny.
"Grandad," I was thinking, "you tomcat, you!" I had to bite the inside of my cheek once or twice to keep from smiling.
You know? On second thought, maybe the guy was checking out the women--being so blatant about it--because he noticed me looking at him. I assure you, Al the Grandad Doppelganger, I'm not into same-sex incestuous necrophilia; call me crazy. Now that? That was really bad, and I apologize.
But it's amazing, sometimes, when you see someone who is the spitting image of someone to whom you are close, like a family member or a good friend. You tend to attribute your loved one's personaliy traits to the stranger and it is thus more mind-bending when they are--obviously--nothing like the person whom you know. Or have known.
Any doppelganger stories out there, in Cyberland? I'd love to hear about them.
That's all. As you were.
9 comments:
Nope, nary a one. I did enjoy the doppelgängerish nature of the story--man you can weave a tale, fiction or non!
"Doppelgangerish?" I doan theenk dat ees a words, Loocee! ;p
Thanks for the props, Nanette "Nighthawk" O'Keefe Bohr Hemingway. I could say the same thing about ye, dear--Man, you can weave a tail!
And, you're right...how could there be a Nan Doppelganger? You're one-of-a-kind.
I bumped into my own doppelganger, which was very odd. It was like looking into a mirror. Face, eyebrows, hair, hands, everything was the same. Except that I was maybe two inches taller.
So that's my short doppelganger story.
My cousin is a waitress and swears that I have a twin. She has a regular customer who apparently has a great resemblance to me ;0)
Mel--Bah-dum-bump! "My short doppelganger story." I get it! I get it! Because she was shorter! Too good. So, uh, where was this? And did she feel the mirror-effect, too?
Little Miss--Maybe you *do* have a twin and said twin was jettisoned, at an early age, from the hospital, because your 'rents had just wanted one. Maybe?
I have a doppelganger, too. He's out there in Hollywood. He is a producer. He helped to produce "Hostel." And he looks exactly fucking like me. Except he's married. And he has a goatee. Other than that, Adam 2. Or maybe I'm [insert name here] 2?
I guess the main point is that one does not want their doppelganger to be a dweeb. Agreed?
Here's an inverse doppelgangerish-like tale. I, too, am sure I've seen the old man several times ... slinking down the alley-way, an over-shoulder glance from within a crowd, through the window of a passing BART train. Shakes me up every time. Sometimes I have to walk quick to catch up a passer-by and give a sidelong look to verify it isn't actually him. But one day, it'll be just him and me, alone at the coffee vending machine in the basement of the hospital, or in the back of the restuarant around closing up time, or maybe on down the trail in the High Sierra. There'll be a lot of catching up to do you can bet! I mean, what the HELL has he been doing these 15 long years?
So the inverse part ... he actually WAS pear-shaped upon departure. He had stage IV prostate cancer so the only thing they could do was fill him up with steroids to slow it down. And it made womanly changes in his body shape (less testosterone and more estrogen). He even had hot flashes where he would laugh and show us his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to the back of a chair in the kitchen. I kid you not! He did NOT like this thing happening to his manly body. Bad enough at 73 that his love handles had begun to naturally outgrow his lats and he had lost most of the weight-lifter's "V" to a more roll-y kind of shape. But until the steroids you could see the athelete behind the aging. Then the "other" began to take over and I wonder if he started getting that inverse doppelgangerly feeling I was hinting at. That he wasn't actually even in his own body anymore! That somehow he was getting squeezed out by this "other". That he would take long looks in the mirror, shuddering, and bursting with anger at the intrusion. I seriously think that was one of the issues that drove him to step into the next world.
So end of story. Almost. One time, while he was alive but morphing into an elder, I got out of the car after a long day river rafting. I felt pretty beat up and as I walked into the house I saw my street-lit shadow rolling side to side on aching knees. Instant recognition! Christ it was Him! The old man inhabiting by own body. His bow-legged rock, his grunts, his surprised laugh coming out of my mouth. What the hell!? It scared me. But then I laughed my own laugh 'cuz I realized I was always going to be carrying a piece of him around inside me doppelgangerlously-speaking.
[so is that actually an English word? everyone knows the German I'm sure ...]
Gummy--You should be a writer, man. Scratch that...you *are* a writer, man. You're right, though, of course. I'd kinda forgotten that he'd changed a bit towards the end, losing his athleticism and his active body. This guy at the meeting was really the spittin' image of the Guru. And, as we all know, the Guru was pretty damned unique-looking.
Looking forward to seeing you. Peace.
PS--I too have that side-to-side limp/walk. I ain't bowlegged--yet--but if I don't do something about my traitorous knees within the next four, five years, I'll be motorvating with a cane by the time I'm 45. Shit. =(
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