To blow against the wind
It was like a scene in a movie.
Our family is waiting for a table at Jerry’s Grill in Union City, and a waitress is gathering beverages behind the bar. I walk into her line of view as she is pouring coffee, and she freezes, only to be brought back to reality by scolding hot coffee burning her hand. The mug crashes to the floor. She apologizes profusely.
Eventually she gathers herself together, and realizes, “you are not him.”
Who is “him?”
“You look just like the guy from American Idol,” she tells me, “and I wanted him to win, too.”
Since I haven’t seen a second of a meaningful moment of American Idol in well over a year, and based on her comments, I assume she has poor eye site and thinks I am David Archuleta (can we talk about how nonsensical that sentence is on multiple levels? Meaningful?).
Truthfully, even I know she couldn’t have confused me with David Archuleta; I don’t care how bad her eye sight is. I mean, this is David Archuleta:
And this is me:
If left unresolved, I know this case of mistaken identity will gnaw at me for a while.
Serendipitously, that night, I happen upon an online piece on American Idols: Where are they now? I cannot help but laugh out loud when I stumble upon a picture of this guy:
Danny Gokey: apparently, to the waitress at Jerry’s Grill, my celebrity doppleganger. Glorious.
By the way, the fried beef ribs were phenomenal.