I used to ride BMW motorcycles and had two of them. I only commuted and toured. Friends and colleagues used to know me as the bike guy. Then there was a guy with the same name and surname as me, who raced BMW motorcycles. He was quite good and quite famous. I often got asked why I race, which of course, I didn't. (I once even got asked for an autograph, which I gave.) He eventually died in a crash and many people thought I was dead. But, the devil is in the detail, he had three N's in his surname, I only have two. Also, I'm still alive, much to the chagrin of some.
Then, many years later another person with my name, this time the exact same spelling, arrived. By then I was racing MTBs on the amateur circuit. He too. I never met him or knew what he looked like, but our paths crossed several times. One year I booked a flight to a race destination. He too, on the same flight. When I tried to check in, they said I'm already checked in and they would not believe me. I even lost the cost of that flight and didn't have the energy to take the company to court. I'm pretty sure, although I never confirmed, what happened. I know he was at the same race because the daily results board featured both of us.
But I got my revenge on him.
As it happened, we were both at the same race again. This was a multi-stage, multi-day week-long high-profile affair with worldwide television coverage and lots of publicity. The year before this particular race, I didn't race due to an injury just before the race. Since I already booked my flights and hotel and hire car, I volunteered to help out on the race. One of the television cameramen who knew me, discovered that I was servicing oranges and Powerade to the racers. He did a mock interview with me on the "taste profile" of purple Powerade (the flavour that looks like meths) and somehow this little snippet got on TV. I did a mock wine tasting skit, complete with swirling and spitting and declared it somewhat "methsy", but good. Let's say it went viral, before going viral was invented. It was played at several race briefings during that year.
BTW, this is a long story. Keep your wits about you.
The following year when I had recovered, I entered that race again. One night I decided not to eat in the race tent, but to go into town for a pizza instead. Up comes the MC, calls MY NAME and up goes my doppelganger who stole my seat on the plane. Get gets onto stage and is asked to do a tasting and comment on four different flavours of Powerade and decide which one is the Powerade of the month.
He had no backstory to the "tasting", was very shy and completely fluffed it. The MC didn't know he wasn't the right guy either and it was a right mess. I heard about it the next day only.
There you have it. I once signed an autograph on behalf of a famous motorcyclist (I did put PP at the end though), I died spectacularly in a parallel world and I was absent at the highlight of my fame.
.
