Ever confidently introduce yourself at airport security, only to realize you’re using the wrong name? Welcome to my life. Officially, I’m James Patrick Batsell, but to everyone else, I’m just Patrick. This little twist in my identity has been the source of countless amusing, confusing, and sometimes enlightening experiences.
It all started with my great-grandfather, James—a name that became a family heirloom passed down to me. While carrying on his legacy is an honor, it has also turned routine moments into mini-identity crises. Imagine walking up to the TSA checkpoint. “Ticket, ID and name, please,” the officer says. I hand them over with a smile. “Thank you, Patrick” I would reply, only to be met with a puzzled look as they glanced down at “James” on my passport. What follows is a familiar dance of explanations, “Do you have any fentanyl on you’s” and occasionally, if they suspect me, a supervisor’s involvement. It’s like being in a spy movie, minus the excitement and with all the bureaucratic weight.
But having a secret first name does come with unexpected perks. Whenever I get a phone call and the voice on the other end cheerfully asks, “Hello, James?”, I instantly know it’s someone who doesn’t really know me—probably a telemarketer or a very confused distant relative. It’s like having a built-in spam filter, saving me from unwanted conversations.
Nicknames, however, are a different beast. Over the years, people have tried to rebrand me with monikers like Patty B, Pat, Patricio, and PB. I’ve never been particularly fond of these nicknames, perhaps because they often came from people I wasn’t close to. It’s funny how the source can affect your perception of a nickname. If a good friend started calling me Patricio, I might embrace it, but from others, it feels forced, like an identity is being shoved down my throat.
Interestingly, I’m not alone in this odd situation. My younger brother William goes by his middle name, Connor. There’s no real reason behind it; perhaps our parents just liked the idea of having a silly little fact to share. This shared experience has brought us closer together, a unique bond that our older brothers don’t quite share. It’s like we’re part of a secret club with only two members.
I often wonder how different life would be if I had stuck with James. Would I have formed the same friendships? Chosen the same career path? Attended the same college? Names carry weight; they’re the first thing our parents give us, and they can shape our identities in subtle ways. Maybe as James, I would’ve been better, stronger, happier… or not, I’ll never know.
Observing how others react to names has been enlightening. A name can influence first impressions, expectations, and even the way people interact with you. In some cultures, names are chosen based on their meanings or the virtues they represent. In others, they’re a nod to heritage and lineage. For me, going by Patrick has allowed a degree of separation from the legacy of James. It feels like my own, something I’ve shaped and owned.
My experiences have led me to notice patterns others might miss. For instance, the way a simple name discrepancy can throw off official processes highlights how much we rely on labels and identifiers in society.
On a lighter note, there’s a certain playfulness in having two names. My brother and I sometimes joke about switching back to our first names for a day, just to see how it would unfold. We’ve imagined the confusion it would cause among friends and colleagues—a harmless prank that appeals to our shared sense of mischief.
Reflecting on all this, I realize that our names are more than just words; they’re intertwined with our experiences and perceptions. They’ve got a personal element that ties into our emotions and memories. Yet, they’re also observational tools, revealing societal patterns in how we treat identity and tradition. And when we allow ourselves to be playful with them, names become a source of joy and creativity.
Although going by James or Patrick doesn’t change who I am. However, I do think that it has definitely changed how I have developed. It’s provided stories to tell, lessons to learn, and a unique lens through which to view the world.
So, the next time I’m at the airport and the TSA officer gives me that familiar confused look, I’ll be ready. Maybe I’ll share a brief version of my story, turning a boring security check into a moment of human connection. However, If I was a TSA officer I would want to literally tase someone who’s annoying me with their life story, so i’ll probably keep it to myself, a simple secret that comes with living between two names.
In the grand scheme of things, going by Patrick has served me well. It may have added a few complications, but it’s also made life more interesting.