Doppelgängers

Why is it that wherever you go you meet people who either look or act just like someone else you know? Ever since I got here I keep meeting people who remind me of old friends in Utah or Texas. If it only happened once or twice I wouldn't say anything, but basically every person—including people I only see on the street—is a mirror of someone else I know. I've met a Gwen; a Pam; a grown-up, cool Brandon Cottrell; a Pogue, and even a guy who I swear is a double for Little John in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.

Some are mixes of more than one person, say, two parts the B. F. and one part Wickman. And the B. F. was already a replacement Phil, so now it's third-generation (and don't forget Jake, who is obviously the next generation).

A few months ago a friend came back from a trip to Mexico swearing she'd met my twin. I once had a class with a guy I could swear I had met in Korea, only this version wasn't Asian. They both had the same face (can a face be both Korean and American without losing something essential?), the same inflections when they spoke, and the very same way of knowing everything and saying too much about it. They probably had the same name, for all I can remember.

Even that guy I mentioned at the bar the other night—I would've laid money down he was a brother or close cousin of my old roommate Scott.

So what's the deal? Did God run short on templates? Is our genetic material not as elastic as the scientists claim? Are all our parents secretly having round-the-world affairs or are aliens cleverly distributing their collected DNA samples? Are the monkeys typing out closer and closer copies of Hamlet or maybe a passable Origin of Species?

Whatever it is, it's freaking me out. (Oh, and I really do have a doppelgänger. He's sort of a cross between me and Brian Doyle.)