I’ve been trying to think of something to write about tonight (and I did come up with a few things — you’ll see them all here eventually, including my usual year-end top five lists of music, movies, and games of the year), but when this little happening today popped back into my head, it wouldn’t get out. So I’m going to do something that will probably be boring and tell you about something that happened to me today. Sorry if you think it’s lame. In other news, my mom has posted about our Wheel of Fortune trip on her blog, so if you want to read another perspective on my post from last Thursday, there you go.

So anyway, I was at the gym today, and I’m slowly learning the employees’ names there. Apparently they’re also learning mine — it started when one guy always said, “hey Mike” when I walked in, even though I never actually told him my name. I have a little barcode on my keychain that they scan when I head in, and I assume that shows them my name when I show up. So occasionally the folks there will call me by name or say hello, and it’s never a big deal. I haven’t really learned any of their names yet, but I guess that’s my problem.

I usually say goodbye as I head out, too, and today as I walked out, the girl at the desk stopped me and said, “Oh hey, I have something of yours.” She did?

“You do?” I asked.

“Yep, here you go,” she said, passing me a DVD. It was a copy of the Watchmen movie, the limited edition release. It was opened and looked a little used. And on the front, there was a post-it, on which was written what looked like, “Mike Schramin.”

I’ve never owned a copy of Watchmen (though I do want to watch that Black Freighter animation they put together at some point), and I don’t know anybody at the gym well enough for them to leave any DVDs at the counter for me to take home. I’ve never even talked about Watchmen with anyone in Los Angeles yet. It wasn’t my DVD. Not mine, I said. That’s my name, kind of — it’s spelled wrong. But that’s not my movie.

“Ok,” she said. “Weird.”

“Good movie, though,” I replied.

“Sure.” And I waved and walked out, forgetting for a while that the encounter had ever happened.

But then, a few hours later, I started thinking about how strange that happening really was. Why would there be a Watchmen DVD that I didn’t own with my name on it at the gym? Who was this Mike Schramin? Was it possible that there was another person, who happened to bring his Watchmen DVD to the gym, whose name was a misspelling of mine?

Then my imagination started up, and it was all over.

What if the girl was actually trying to pass me a DVD surreptitiously? What if I missed the cues — what if I was supposed to take the DVD anyway? What if someone, a spy, had snuck in the gym or otherwise placed a DVD there, somehow associating it with my name? What kind of secret messages had I passed up by not taking a DVD that was seemingly meant for me?

Would I have brought it home, only to start it up past the first menu and then see an image of a man sitting at a table talking directly to me, giving me a secret mission and telling me that the DVD would self destruct when the message was over? It could have been anything, and I just walked away.

Of course, I’m glad I didn’t take it — it wasn’t mine, and whoever’s it was will probably want it eventually. But listen, spies, the next time you want to covertly pass me some information without my foreknowledge, please spell my name right.