After traveling back to California this week to hang out with my family and friends for Thanksgiving, I arrived back in NY today to mix-up at the airport. As I exited my United Airlines flight, I was warmly greeted by two New York State Troopers and promptly taken into custody. It seems as though I closely resembled a prison inmate, (name omitted), and they feared I was him (see comparison below). After explaining the story behind my stache, presenting two forms of valid identification, and promising to cut my mustache immediately after the Gala Parte to avoid any further confusion, the troopers let me go and donated anonymously to the cause.
As we approach the final days of Movember, I am saddened by the thought of no longer being able to stroke the stache when I am deep in thought, or the absence of glares on the 7 train to and from work everyday, or even the stares from older women as they mistake me for someone in their late 30s. However, along the way, I've gained a few brothers, or should I say bros? Mo Bros.
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You look like more of a criminal than he does!
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