My Breakfast with James Taylor

One day I had breakfast with James Taylor.

Okay, he wasn’t really James Taylor — I don’t think so, anyway. I suppose he could’ve been, but I didn’t ask.

My father and I were having breakfast in a coney island restaurant in Flint, Michigan when I spied the faux James Taylor sitting across the isle reading The Flint Journal and drinking coffee. I told my dad and he laughed. In retrospect, I’m not sure why he was laughing — because the guy looked like James Taylor or his teenage daughter knew what James Taylor looked like.

I have heard that everybody has a doppelganger (good word to impress your friends) in the world. I don’t know if I like the idea of running into someone who looks just like me. When I was in elementary school, teachers had a hard time telling me apart from a girl named Meghan. We were both scrawny little towheads, but as we grew up we stopped looking alike. Thanks to Facebook, I know we don’t resemble each other much at all anymore.

If these “twins” exist, then why isn’t there more evidence? Another woman looking like me probably wouldn’t draw much attention, but what about someone famous? Wouldn’t another Angelina Jolie or Tom Cruise draw some attention? I would think that people around the world would recognize if their mother/father/sister/brother/friend/neighbor looked exactly like Barack Obama.

I’ve been told I resemble Elizabeth Shue. I take that as a compliment, but I don’t see it. We’re both blond. That’s about it. Maybe everyone thinks that all blonds look alike. That would be okay if all blonds were associated with say, Marilyn Monroe and not Courtney Love.

So, if you think you look like me, let me know. We could seriously mess with people. That could be a seriously good time.