Eddie Arana, Rick Thibodeau, & Chris Bakunas San Diego, Ca. March 2012

Eddie Arana, Rick Thibodeau, & Chris Bakunas San Diego, Ca. March 2012
Eddie Arana, Rick Thibodeau, & Chris Bakunas at Luche Libre Taco Shop in San Diego, March 2012

Friday, August 29, 2014

The Return Of The Generic Bald-Headed White Guy With Facial Hair


In the past week it has happened three times. Three separate occurrences. One of those occasions, it was actually in reverse, but being as how it was done by someone I know relatively well, someone who sees me on quite a regular basis, makes it all the more telling.

What it is, of course, is me being mistaken for someone else, or in the case of TB, someone else being mistaken for me.

The template for the big bald white guy with facial hair. That's my lot in life. For years I sported a goatee, but I've tried a few variations - small and large mustache, full beard, van dyke, chin-strap, etc., in an effort to have a more readily distinguishable appearance, but no matter what I try, inevitably someone comes up and proclaims me to be someone else.

It's not annoying - in fact, it can be fairly humorous, especially when people insist I'm the guy they think I am - "Really? You're not Bill Woodard? But you look just like him!"

Okay, sometimes it can be annoying, like when a woman comes up to me and swears I look like a man who was the biggest jerk she'd ever encountered. I keep thinking the opposite has to occur eventually, that a woman is going to walk up to me and say I look just like the most wonderful man she's ever known, but THAT has not happened.

Oddly, the two people who thought I was someone else this past week both thought I was a Pop Warner football coach - but for teams on nearly opposite sides of the metro area. 

Heck, I've never even played football, much less coached it. But I certainly must look the part.

What would be great is if I looked the part of someone somebody owed a lot of money to, and that somebody just walks up to me all sheepish like one day, forces a large bankroll of twenties into my hand, and says, "Hey man, sorry this took so long, but it's all there, all $20,000." And then they run off quickly out of embarrassment for being late with the repayment, before I can tell them I'm not who they think I am.

Yeah, that's a case of mistaken identity I'd be up for.

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