Doppelgangers! Ahh!
As some patriarch on some crappy sitcom I watched too much when I was younger once said, "Do the Germans actually have such a problem with [doppelgangers] that they needed a word for it?"
So, I have actually wondered before about how many people you can possibly have before you start running into crazy The Prince & the Pauper-style situations. And yes, I admit it, I never read the book, but the Mickey cartoon was top-notch.
But I digress.
Think about it: there's a limited number of eyes, noses, mouths, hairdos, face shapes, and so forth, and then all the various colours they come in. Then you figure out all the basic combinations. Even accounting for the huge numbers of degrees and such (like how siblings are coming from the exact same genes but look different, or even fraternal twins), think about the number of people you come in contact with on a day-to-day basis, just walking by on the street or on the same bus. Eventually you're going to start to double up.
Now, this has probably happened before and I just haven't noticed; after all, I don't take note of the characteristics of everyone I walk by on the street. Or
do I?
BUT there are doppelgangers at Carleton, infiltrating a venerated educational institution! (Do doppelgangers infiltrate? Are they evil? Am I getting them confused with zombies again?) Consider the following:
- the guy who rides the O-train Monday and Wednesday mornings with me. He's Dave's evil twin, unfortunately without the goatee. Quit freaking me out on early mornings, Dave!
- Shaena's doppelganger, the girl with the purple hair in my Europe class. Oh, she's wacky. The sad thing is she doesn't know someone got there before her. Sorry, wacky hair girl - she already thinks those indie bands you like are sellouts to the man.
- worst of all . . . MY doppelganger(s). There's a few of 'em. Now granted, most of them live in shiny store windows, but there's one or two on campus. Freaks the heck out of me.
So, have you guys seen any doppelgangers? I realize it's probably just a part of being dumped into a situation with tons of people the age of most of my acquaintances. The chances are just more prevalent. It's like hearing your name called out in a crowd; one familiar sound and you're like a groundhog sitcking your head out going "What where with the who?" (I always react to the name Tara. Friggin' Taras, stealing my name's sound.)
Oh, and there is no doppelganger of Melissa. (God forbid.)
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