A week ago, I was hired to play drums for my brother's church for that day's services. No problem, so I show up way too early just to be good and professional and all that and this geezer comes up to me in the parking lot. I know the guy, he'd sung at the church when a played there 6 months previous. We had met, shaken hands and exchanged pleasantries back then. So he comes up to me and it went like this:
Him: Wow! What are you doing here?!
Me: I'm playing today.
Him: Oh boy! Wow! Talk about a blast from the past!
Me: Yeah, I guess so.
Him: So did you work last night?
Me: No; I did homework.
Him: Homework? What kind of homework?
Me: Well, I go to PSU, so I'm taking Spanish right now.
Him: PSU huh? That's kind of different.
Me: Yeah, I'm a graphic design major.
Him: Wow! Well, it's sure great to see you again! Whatcha got there? (pointing to my little case) A monitor?
Me: No, that's my kick drum pedal.
Him: Kick drum? Well, I always remembered you as being a bass player! You're playing drums now.
Me: Yeah, I've always played drums. My brother plays bass here. My dad plays bass, too.
Him: (stunned silence)
Me: Yeah, so I'm playing drums here today.
Him: You know what? I thought you were your dad! Oh. Ok, so your not Ted?
Me: No. I'm Peter.
Him: Oh, ok. (walks away).
I swear to God, there's no exaggeration in this story. My dad, young as he looks, is in his 50s. On the other hand, I am 27, roughly half his age, and this ignoramus thought I was him. Sigh.