Lately I have been particularly captive to a force I call “the parallel co-ed phenomenon (TM).” It mainly affects people who live and/or work at one school and attend another.  Or, alternatively, those who work at more than one school. 

The phenomenon occurs when you see a person you think you realize.  “Hi Sally!” You call out, enthusiastic and engaged.  “How is your dog, Roy?  I understand he was taken with the worms.  Rough thing, that!” “Sally” looks at you like you have three heads, quickly turns in the other direction, and breaks into a sprint away from you.

Confused, you wonder if you recently did something to offend Sally.  You then realize that you know Sally from School X, where you work, and you are currently walking across the quad at School BU, where Sally does not attend.  You think she might have attended a concert there once, actually, but it is still pretty unlikely that she would be there in the middle of the day.  In July.  When Sally is in Tibet helping orphans for her summer practicum.

Right.

This happens to me all the time.  I’ll be home in Pennsylvania and see someone I know.  But wait, I know them from Boston.  Is it them?  Usually not.  I then have to stop and remind myself where I am, who I should know here, and where it is I met the person who is confusing me in the first place.  I’m caught in this horrible nostalgia feedback loop that paralyzes me for minutes at a time.  Heaven forbid I see someone in the middle of the street.  I’m toast.

I think I need to commit to one institution or maybe a one college town, so resplendent is Boston with doppelgangers of the students with whom I live.  Though, it probably wouldn’t matter. I’ll be standing in Staples convinced I see my third grade teacher.  Who died last year.

“What’s the matter?” A companion will ask me.

“I see live people.” I’ll reply confused, the blood draining from my face.

And then he or she will quickly turn in the other direction and break into a sprint away from me.