It Seems I Have More Than One Dopplegänger

Over the weekend, I was getting coffee at the local Starbucks and a random stranger asked me if my name was “Wellington.” We chatted for a while, and I ended up finding out that this “Wellington” chap was someone the guy knew from about 10 or 15 years ago. “Dead ringer” was a phrased that I think was used which, given the history and background of the word dopplegänger is a little… unsettling.

Oddly, I’m used to this – being mistaken for someone else. It happens so frequently now, I don’t even blink.

Me. Asian guy. Long hair and facial hair. Glasses. Apparently someone else looks quite like me. This kind of mistaken identity thing happens probably once every two months or so.

It’s eerie, sometimes. But it’s become this regular thing.

Ever since I learned about dopplegängers as a kid, the notion always spooked me out a little bit. The idea that someone else out there is just like you, but is your “opposite” or “ghostly double” is a little unnerving. Hearing about that “other” while you order up a latte just adds to the weirdness.

For those who missed it the first time around, a few years back my Matt and Ben both helped me track down the one guy who I had thought was my dopplegänger – the one guy in Chicago who other people kept mistaking me for. However, even after he (Ko) moved away… I kept getting mistaken. So in fact, there may actually be more than one.

Which is, as a thought, doubly weird.

Here’s the discovery process, in sequence:
In Which He is Presented with Incontrovertible Proof That His Dopplegänger Does, Indeed, Exist
Dopplegänger, Flickr
Ben Makes Contact
Here Goes…
Success!
Meeting Me for the First Time

After chatting with the Starbucks guy (the conversations always get awkward, the moment people find out I’m not who they think I am), I said a half-hearted goodbye. I stopped, went back, and said that maybe his seeing me was a sign that he should try to track down his friend and see what Wellington was up to. Google, Facebook, etc.

At the least, maybe seeing me can help reunite two friends who lost track of one another a long while back.

Hm. In thinking this out more, the notion that *I* am someone else’s doppleganger (a copy, and not an original) is an odd way to look at it. Everyone always assumes they’re the original.

Imagining I’m someone else’s copy? That’s downright disturbing, right there.