“Oops, Wrong Person”, or “How I Could Have Easily Been Bowie Knifed”

I’ve mistaken people for someone else on more than one occasion, including my unfortunate encounter at a gas station and the time I nearly scared a woman to death in a shopping mall. On a related note, I once texted a group of my player’s parents with a message meant for a girl I was dating. Trust me, that one was an awful experience.

Well, it happened again recently, and I’m lucky I didn’t get gutted with a Crocodile Dundee style Bowie knife. Here’s the story of my latest mix-up . . .

I went to a Super Bowl party back in early February that was attended by probably 20-people or so, and the shindig started with a pool tournament early in the afternoon. At one point I noticed a guy I knew named Jim who wasn’t dressed in his normal attire. He as all decked out in buckskins, a cowboy hat with a feather in it, laced up moccasin-style boots and a big bowie knife hanging from his belt.

It seemed sort of weird to me at the time, but hey, who am I to judge?

Well, turns out I was the guy to judge, because I started gently needling him, and by gently needling I mean teasing him mercilessly.

I think it started when it was Jim’s turn to play pool and he was standing over by the bar. I believe I yelled something like, “Hey Annie Oakley, get your ass over here. It’s your turn.”

I then looked at my friends expecting laughter all-around, but instead I got some confused looks and blank stares. I remember looking around and actually saying, “What, nothing?” Hell, I thought I was being pretty funny.

And so it continued for the next couple hours, as I continued  making fun of my buddy’s choice of attire. I may or may not have referred to him as Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, among others. I believe the name Calamity Jane may have been thrown in there, I can’t be sure. Perhaps even a Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, but that’s neither here nor there.

But why, oh why wouldn’t my dim-witted friends appreciate my humor? I mean, insults were the name of the game at this particular establishment, and I was on a roll.

Anyway, as I sat back watching my victim play pool, smug with myself and my rapier-like wit, we soon had a new arrival to the party. Yes, my friend Jim had just walked down the stairs and into the party!

Wait. H-o-o-0-l-d up a second. Jim couldn’t have walked in.

Jim was playing pool.

Except he wasn’t, because he’d just walked in.

Perplexed? So was I.

For a few interminable seconds, confusion reigned. But then, the inescapable truth sunk in. The man I’d been ridiculing for 2-hours, the man I’d brow-beaten, mocked and taunted, the man I thought was Jim, was in fact not Jim at all.

Well, hell.

How this stranger had not stabbed me in the heart with his bowie knife is beyond me. Dude had the cool of the proverbial cucumber. Hell, the guy hadn’t even turned to look at me, for if he had I’d have undoubtedly realized he was not who I thought he was.

And my friends? I guess they thought I’d lost my mind or perhaps was just being an asshole of epic proportions, which, since nobody told me to stop, doesn’t say a lot for their image of me.

How could this happen, you ask? I have no answer. I guess I never really looked at him directly? Who knows? I’ve never been known for my observational skills anyway. At the end of the day I guess I’m lucky the fellow was a patient, even-tempered gent.

I mean, the dude was carrying a really big knife.