So this weekend was Grant’s birthday party, and months ago he’d specified that he wanted to go to this awesome Brazilian place where they carve slabs of meat on long skewers onto your plate with sword-like blades, and it’s generally very badass and awesome. It’s also pretty busy – so I made a reservation about a month and a half out, just to be safe. I called a couple days before the actual party to reduce the total number and ask a couple questions, but all was set to go.
Then, when we got there, the hostess had us wait a bit for our table. She came out and asked me when I’d made the reservation, and I told her I’d made it ages ago, but finalized a few changes that same week. She looked worried, and said, “Well, there’s another girl here who says her name is Virginia and she also has a party of 11”. I immediately concluded, out loud, that she “probably just overheard me or read that off your screen, and wanted her party to get seated, you know?” And everyone in my group agreed – it’s not that common of a name, and 11 is kind of a random number for a party, etc. I started mentally fuming at this chick, thinking she could steal the spot for the BIRTHDAY PARTY I had planned IN ADVANCE for MY BOYFRIEND. I joked to the party that if we saw a group of 11 people slink out of the restaurant, we were all to boo and hiss at them.
Then the hostess immediately came out and said our table was ready. We were all a bit surprised, so I made some crack about how I was The Real Virginia, and she said, “Actually, there was another gal named Virginia with a party of 11, and she had just been seated, but they had your name down as just ‘V. Culler’ instead.” Huh.
So of course I felt bad for having suggested that my Doppelgänger was full of shit and trying to pull one over on us. We sort of tried to speculate as to which table it could have been, but there were so many big groups that we gave up. Either way, other VA, I hope you guys enjoyed your meat, sorry for insinuating that you were a devious bitch!
P.S. Yes, I do know that Doppelgänger is supposed to mean someone who *looks* like you, not has your name and books parties like you. But I challenge you to find a snappy synonym for the latter.