Hello, My Name is Not Marty

Ernest Borgnine won an Oscar for his portrayal of the lead character in the movie, “Marty.”

“Is your name Marty?”

“No, it’s Jeff.”

“You look just like a guy in my high school named Marty.”

“Well, that’s not me,” I laughed.

“Hmm, it might be easier for me to call you Marty.”

With that, I was cursed with an unwanted nickname while on a three-week Baron Teen Tour of the West Coast, which included stops in San Francisco, San Diego, Lake Tahoe, Tijuana, Las Vegas, Reno, Nevada, and Los Angeles.

The querying camper (let’s call him Dean) wasn’t necessarily a bad guy. We all shared the same bad late ’70s fashion choices. We were predominantly from fairly privileged families that could afford to throw us onto flights across the country. We were all virtual strangers who met on the flight to California or at the airport retrieving our luggage.

Finding places on the bus, social precepts took over — jocks gravitated towards the back and do-gooders plunked down in front. I settled in the fourth or fifth row, where Dean approached me and decided that the passive-aggressive assignment of his schoolmate Marty’s name was all in good fun.

“Is Marty his name?” I heard his seat mate ask as Dean walked two rows back on the bus to the hotel. “That would be so freaky!”