One night, many years ago, I was with friends at Pats Rose & Grey, enjoying an evening. Being introduced to strangers, and being somewhat inebriated, and assuming that the brief introduction would be my complete and total association with these strangers, I decided on a whim that I’d pretend I’m visiting from Scotland. And so I put on my best (bad) Scottish brogue.
Of course, the short introduction turned into us all getting a table together, so I was kind of forced to keep up the charade for quite a while. I can’t imagine I fooled them, but they seemed to take me at my word. If they did take me at my word it was probably only because they (rightly) couldn’t imagine someone being so pathetic as to fake a scottish accent for an entire evening. Seriously, how sad.
Since then, I’ve often thought of scnearios and lies I could tell people about me if I was in such similar situations (being introduced to strangers) and if the mood struck me. And I’ve come up with the perfect one (I think).
Saying you’re Scottish (or anything where you have to put on a tough accent or any affectation) is dangerous because it’s tough to keep the charade up. One needs to choose a lie which is easy to maintain yet fairly difficult to prove on the spot. The lie also needs to be of a nature that the possibility of the truth is within grasp. Saying you’re an astronaut is probably not going to be believed, and would be farily easy to disprove. The lie needs to be within the realm of possibility, yet of appeal uncommon enough to be remembered.
And I have the perfect lie:
If you don’t know me, and you get introduced to me, and if I am of the right level of intoxication and if the mood strikes me, I may tell you my lie: I am one of the writers of the little show description snippets in the TV Guide. If pressed, I have a whole backstory ready to prove that fact.
"See that guy over there," you’d say to others. "He writes those little blurbs about the shows in the TV Guide."
What’s your lie?