Who Are You and What Are You Doing Here…?

Somewhere on the island of Manhattan is a man who looks remarkably, dare I say almost exactly, like me. This, in and of itself, isn’t all that strange; people always talk about their doppelgangers and you’ve got to assume that sooner or later someone who looks like you will end up in the same city you’re in. The strange part is that this guy apparently also works in the food industry and shops at some of the same places I shop at; or more pointedly, I shop at some of the same places he shops at.
In late December of last year, I went to Ottomanelli’s Prime Meats on Bleecker for the first time ever. I was there to buy ground duck, veal and pork meat for a Country Pâté I was making for a friend’s New Year’s Eve party. Upon walking into the store one of butchers (who I have since come to know quite well), turned and smiled at the sight of me. He then asked, “how’ve you been? Whatcha cooking today?” Now mind you, when I first walked into Ottomanelli’s, I was still employed as an analyst at my Wall Street Bank and most likely walked into the shop with a suit on, not sporting a Mohawk. I thought he must’ve confused me with someone else, and this other person also must’ve rolled into a place where the air is heavy with the stink of meat wearing a suit on a regular basis. After exchanging some pleasantries where he attempted to catch up with me, even going so far as to ask how my mom was doing, while I attempted to not let on that I had no idea who he was or that the only time I’d seen the inside of the store was in a magazine. Once there was a break in the conversation, I placed my order and got the hell out of there.
For a couple months I chalked it up to nothing more than coincidence; some guy who looked vaguely like me had stopped into Ottomanelli’s on a few occasions and the butcher probably got a little confused when he saw me. Then, I walked into Broadway Panhandler on 8th Street and got a little scared. Again, it was my first time in the store and when I got to the checkout line, one of clerks said to me, “hey man, I haven’t seen you in a while. What’ve you been up to?” Again, he asked me about cooking and why he hadn’t seen me in a while. And again I went along with it and didn’t let on that I had never seen him before in my life. But of course my story wouldn’t be complete unless it ended with the phrase third time’s a charm…
The Thursday after Labor Day (before I cooked those Prosciutto Wrapped Watermelon blocks, but after I salted five half-racks of lamb to confit), I dropped by Fish Bar on 5th Street to relax and have a drink. I had been there no less than five minutes when one of my friends asked me if I had been on 16th Street or near Union Square earlier that day. I told her I’d only been to Ottomanelli’s and a few other places and this was the first time I’d even come above Houston. She quickly disagreed and told me that she had been sitting outside Chat-n-Chew with a friend of hers, when she saw me walking down the street. Seeing as I’m pretty sure I know where my own body is at all times, I reiterated that at this particular moment; standing on 5th Street; was the closest I had come to Union Square all day. She couldn’t believe it and even went so far as to have me turn around so she could “compare jeans.” Needless to say, the jeans weren’t the same but the guy did have a Mowhawk and was apparently also wearing a yellow t-shirt, which is too weird for words.
So it’s been almost a year since I first walked into Ottomanelli’s, and it seems where ever I go, my doppelganger is a few steps ahead of me…or maybe I’m his doppelganger, always a few steps behind.