PDA | Kami's Beautiful Morning

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I thought I saw myself at the airport the other day.

Really.

I looked across a row of cars and there I stood next to some guy I’d never seen before. The other me was obviously dropping someone off at the airport, just like I was.

I did that double-take thing we all do when something surprises us. Then I looked away, shook my head and focused on MSH who was getting his bag and backpack situated.

But in the back of my head all these neurons are firing off “what the heck!” signals and telling my neck to turn so I could look over at the other me again. But I was resisting the neuron-ics in my brain and instead reached over to give my sweetie a hug that would need to last for a couple of weeks.

As I did he took a step back and sideways to settle the backpack better on his back and caught me off guard. I ended facing him but with my body aimed over at the nice SUV with the better-looking, thinner me and her completely unlike my husband companion.

She was looking back at me.

She was probably thinking, “Ugh, I hope I don’t look like that in ten years.” Or more likely, “Why does that woman keep staring at me and my hot husband?”

Or I imagined it.

Again, I pushed the nagging weirdness vibes out of my head and focused on my own soon departing companion.

We needed a good, solid kiss to get us through the upcoming absence. But he’s doesn’t go in for PDA. (Public Displays of Affection.) So I ended up with a short little meh kiss.

Lame.

I said to him, again ignoring the look-alike who might or might not have been looking my way, “Airports are designed for public displays of affection. Give me a decent kiss that’s gonna last a day or two.”

And he did.

So much so that I forgot about the other me. Mmm.

And then he was gone and so was the phantom, younger me.

Weird.

Doppelganger. That’s the word for what happened.

dop·pel·gäng·er

ˈdäpəlˌgaNGər/

noun

1. an apparition or double of a living person.

Origin: German Doppelgänger, from doppel- double + -gänger goer

I didn’t feel particularly haunted. Just weirded out. A little. Or more than a little, maybe.

I saw myself another time walking down the sidewalk, in Charlotte, North Carolina. Couldn’t get that one out of my head for weeks. Definitely haunting then.

Do you really think there are other me-people out there, living other me-like but different lives? It’s an unsettling thought.

Or maybe it’s just the gene pool. With a few trillion of us on the planet there’s bound to be some duplication occasionally. We can’t all be unique like snowflakes, can we? At least, looks wise.

I have no idea.

Twins? (Photo credit: aquababe)

I do know that how I think I look and the me I see in a mirror, particularly when I’m not expecting a mirror image, doesn’t add up. I’m surprised to see that’s what I look like. So maybe what I’m seeing when I see another ME is the idealized me, not a copy or double of me.

Did that make any sense?

I’ve been told I have a very, very familiar face. I’m often mistaken for someone’s aunt, grandma, mother, sister, cousin, neighbor, friend or teacher. I’ve lost track of how many times people have asked me if my name is X or Y or Z and I have to convince them that I’ve never been to Norway or Galveston or Upstate New York.

Maybe I’m the doppelgänger! Eesh! There’s a scary thought.

Now I feel haunted.

I wonder what would happen if I tried talking to me if this ever happened again. What would I saw to myself? Would I think I was crazy? Would I/she rush to get a security guard or a police officer? Would they cart me away?

Has this ever happened to you? I’d love to hear about it.

Or am I just strange?