While I was standing there an older thin
guy walks up and stares at me and says, “I know you!”
Now those of you who know me know that if
my own wife and kids walked up to me unexpectedly I wouldn’t recognize
them. In fact there were several times I
actually walked by mother on the street without recognizing her. So it could be very possible that I do know
this guy -in fact he sort of looked familiar.
“What’s your name?” he demands.
“Jeff,” I reply
“Jeff who?”
“Jeff Groberman.”
“Where are you from?”
“Vancouver.”
“Are you sure?”
I always love it when someone asks that
sort of question. So I stand there for
about 30 seconds pondering it.
“Pretty Sure, “ I reply.
The more I stare at him the more I realize
why he looks familiar. He looks just like
me!
“Well you got an exact double in Montreal.”
“I get that a lot,” I reply. “There’s a lot
of me’s running around the world. They
cloned me – punched out dozen of me - like
Gingerbread men.”
“Really?” he asks.
It turns out that the guy is a doctor
originally from Montreal now living in Baton Rouge.
“You Jewish?” he asks.
“Yeah.
You?”
“Yeah.”
Now those of you who regularly follow my
misadventures know how directionally challenged I am. I still can’t find the exit from the baggage
area – at least I haven’t got tazered yet.
But this guy is so clueless I’m concerned for his safety, and hoping
that there’s no stapler in the area. He
can’t even figure out how to take his bag through customs and put it on the
conveyer belt to his next Canadian destination.
I take mercy on him, and tell him I’ll help
him to his gate. The guy has got THREE
big bags – each weighing a ton.
“What have you got in there?” I ask,
dragging one oversized bag off the carousel for him.
“Just some instruments I need for the
hospital.”
“What a complete Cat Scan unit?”
“You never know what you might need.”
This ought to be fun clearing customs. I help him fill out the form he should have
filled out in the airport and head for the customs guy.
“You guys travelling together?” the customs
official asks.
“Not really.” I state.
“Then why you up here together,” he asks
looking at us.
“It’s a long story,” I begin.
“I don’t care,” he snaps. “Just gimme your
brother’s declaration form.”
I hand him the two forms. The guy glances at them.
“How come you got different last names?”
“He likes to go by his maiden name.” I
respond.
The official, shakes his head, thinks it
for a minute then decides it’s not worth pursuing further and waves us through.
I put his luggage on the conveyor belt,
walk him to his gate and bid him farewell.
I notice he’s going to
Newfoundland where somehow I figure he’ll fit right in.
Now it's home and off to Yelapa with my wife Michele who is taking our first major trip together since our honeymoon - 40 years ago! That ought to be interesting.
Now it's home and off to Yelapa with my wife Michele who is taking our first major trip together since our honeymoon - 40 years ago! That ought to be interesting.
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