They say everyone has a twin.  In my case, it’s more like quintuplets.  While I am neither rich nor famous (not yet anyway), I often get mistaken for someone who is.  The fact is, I probably would be rich if I had a dollar for every time I’ve been told I resembled one celebrity or another. 

Most recently, the woman at Home Depot who was selling me a screen door, insisted I looked just like her favorite golfer, Phil Mickelson.  This was a new one for me.  Although I’m familiar with Mr. Mickelson, I can’t say that I’ve ever paid much attention to what he looks like.  After Googling him, I found that there is indeed a resemblance in that we are both men.  Beyond that I just don’t see it.  Also, my golfing experience has been limited to one unfortunate incident involving a squirrel that surely thought he was safely out of range of even the most errant of golf shots.  Tragically, he was not.

Actually, Michelson is only one in a long line of my supposed doppelgangers.  In the latter part of my teen years, I often wore a beat-up old cowboy hat.  Looking back, I have no idea why.  I never wanted to be a cowboy.  I had never at the time, been farther south than New Jersey, and my one experience on a horse, which fortunately involved no squirrels, lasted less than a minute.  Despite all that I wore the hat and because of that, I was often told I looked just like Arlo Guthrie.

Just like him?  While it’s true that we both have hats on, after that it’s a stretch.  Add to that my incredible lack of musical talent (the only thing I can play is an ipod) combined with my complete inability to carry a tune and I think you’d agree that any resemblance starts and ends with the hat.

 My all time favorite “you know who you look like” story happened at of all places, the World Series in Oakland, California.  Soon after my friend Ken and I took our seats, the guys in front of us turned around and said “You’re Jerry Seinfeld aren’t you?”  Although this was before Seinfeld became a household name,  I was familiar with his work, not from television but from the radio ads he did at the time for 7-11.  So I shot back, “You mean the 7-11 comic?  I’m way funnier than he is.”  They laughed and despite my protestations to the contrary, kept insisting I was Jerry Seinfeld.  And while I cannot hit a golf ball or sing a song, I have been known from time to time, to be able to make people laugh.  It could have been the copious amounts of beer I’d consumed (or more likely the amount they’d consumed), but whatever the reason, for that one day, I was on a roll.  And they loved it.  Eventually, I left to get more beer and they turned to my friend for confirmation.  “That’s Jerry isn’t it?” they said.  Ken smiled and said, “Oh yeah, that’s him.”  And that is how I found myself signing autographs at the end of the game.  I have no doubt those autographs have been sold on Ebay several times now.

In the end, it’s comforting to know that should fame ever find its way to my door, I already have the autograph thing down.  But I don’t think I’ll ever feel truly famous, until somewhere, some guy gets stopped on the street and hears:  “Hey, has anyone ever told you, you look a lot like Jeff Vibes?”