Has Anybody Seen Me Lately?

A noted humorist describes a predicament in which most of us find ourselves at times

- Corey Ford

SOMETIMES I wonder if I’m getting to be transparent. I can see waiters, but they can’t see me. Ticket agents look right through me at the person next in line. I have the same sensation when I try to catch the attention of salesgirls, porters and taxi-cab drivers.

I’m substantial enough—maybe a little too substantial in places. And there’s an undeniable air of authority about the way I stride into a restaurant, yank my necktie into place and signal the headwaiter. The headwaiter’s glance sweeps my way, then comes to rest on a section of flowered wallpaper directly behind me. He considers it for a moment, and looks away.

Five minutes later I manage to catch his eye. He strides briskly in my direction, takes a menu from the pile at my elbow and walks back across the room. Another 10 minutes pass, while I stand in the door way pointing at myself and smiling idiotically whenever he moves near. At last our eyes meet head-on. His face lights in belated recognition and he hurries toward me, clasping his hands apologetically, and says to the couple right beside me: “This way, please.”