Two Twin Stories

I find it difficult to recognize people’s faces these days with only their eyes exposed. Even when they speak, their muffled voices sound like a medieval language. I wish there’s a new Google app that translates muffled voices into clear voices. I can’t even recognize my twin brother, Fred. Without seeing his entire face, I can’t tell whether it’s him or me looking in a mirror. Yep, just one of the double disadvantages of having a twin in a pandemic.

Even before this masked pandemic, we’ve had our share of adventures of being mistaken for the other.

One time, I was in a hotel project in Makati, a burly American guy called out Fred’s name, briskly walking toward my direction. I knew right away that this was one of Fred’s.

Even before he opened his big mouth, I blurted out,

“Sorry, I’m not Fred.”

“Don’t f** with me. Of course, you are Fred!”

“No, I’m not. I’m his twin brother. Watch your language.”

“Fred never told me he had a twin.”

“Maybe you haven’t asked.”

“C’mon, show me an ID.”

Exasperated, I pulled one for him.

“OMG, you’re not him. F***!”

And then, without me asking, he told me a story of him bumping into Fred in Singapore, blah, blah, blah.

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There was also a time when, out of Alice in Wonderland, a woman I’ve never before seen in my entire happy life startled me with a hug — along a public walkway somewhere. She was Fred’s officemate, of course.

When she found out I wasn’t him, she jumped into an open manhole. Of course, I was kidding about the open manhole. It was actually closed. Nonetheless, it was a spectacle seeing her face collapse in embarrassment. Good thing she didn’t carry a knife or a rope that time. But I carried a smile on my face until the next weekend thinking about it.

___________

Fred has his own stories to tell, but this is not his blog post.

___________

Back to the main point.

Don’t you wish this pandemic is over already? The lipstick industry is losing heavily.

Cheers to the new normal.