It had been a while since it happened that I was mistaken for Breadzilla Brad.
Time was, I would be taken for Brad Thompson of the Wainscott bakery often. Once, in a yoga class, I got into a bit of a back and forth with a woman on an adjacent mat who just refused to believe that Wednesdays were the hardest days of the week for me. That is, until she said, “But don’t you have to bake for the weekend?”
There is, to be sure, a resemblance between us. We are about the same age, have similar builds, share a certain sort of angular look, both have long hair, and frequently are a day or two late on shaving. I don’t mind a bit and, as far as I know, neither does Brad. The people I gently correct, on the other hand, appear very uncomfortable.
The guy from Napa Auto Parts in Bridgehampton, for example, to whom I have said hello for years over cups of coffee at Java Nation, blanched and looked like he wanted to get away when I told him I was not the bread guy.
Andres Bedini, who runs the coffee emporium with his wife, Cheryl, overheard this whole thing and was amused. He, of course, as coffee shop owners generally do, had a better version of mistaken identity.
Andres, or Andrew as he is also known, grew up in Argentina as a child and speaks perfect Spanish. The way he tells it, two regulars in an encounter elsewhere concluded that there were two Java Nation owners, Andrew, who spoke English as a first language, and Andres, who did not. They therefore thought he was two people, which tops my being mistaken for another person, in my opinion.
Why mistaking someone’s identity seems so mortifying is a mystery. Things happen. People look alike. That’s the way it goes. It is really no big deal, even if I would really enjoy a little look-alike discount on one of those tunas on a squishy roll, Brad!