Life Everybody’s Doing It
posted by June 19 at 16:27 PMon
The other night I went to a friend’s birthday at the Buenos Aires Grill and sat next to a woman I didn’t know. She told me about these friends of hers who are getting married. They each have last names they don’t like; can’t remember what the names are, but they are similar to Wurp and Scrum. (Both one syllable, both with u’s.) So they are changing their last name to Pixel.
We agreed Pixel is a pretty great last name. “No one else has it,” she said. “And you remember it.”
I thought of McLeod Residence, the new Belltown bar/art space started by a couple friends who legally changed their names—to McLeod—together. One of them, who used to go by Erik, changed his name to Buster Butterfield McLeod. The judge laughed when it was announced in court.
I said to the woman, “I know these people who all started a bar together and changed their last names to McLeod.”
She said, “I’m a McLeod! I became a McLeod last week.”
Later that night, I was having drinks at a bar on Capitol Hill when I overheard a group of friends talking about a friend who’d just changed his name. The friend’s new name was Dayton. It was wondered why a person would change their name to that Dayton, it being “a douchebag name.” Could have been Clayton. I couldn’t hear very well.
Loudly, almost yelling, one of them said, “Why do people change their names?”
Another said, “Because they move to LA.”