Being a Travis has never been more annoying
I have heard this name more during the past few weeks than at any other time in my life, which is strange because it is my name.
At work, I sit across from Emily Yahr, the nation’s leading chronicler of Taylor Swift. On my left is the sports department.
You see where this is going.
The Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce relationship has captivated (or infuriated) much of America. It has been my own personal hell.
It started as a trickle. I’d overhear, “Did you hear about Travis and Taylor?” Wait, what about me? I don’t even think I know a Taylor.
Now, it’s a flood. Do you know how many times I turn my head because I think someone’s addressing me?
No one is.
No one is ever talking about me. Or about any of the other Travises (Travii?).
They are talking about the One True Travis, a tight end with the Kansas City Chiefs who is one-half of the center of the universe.
Washington Post, Travis Lyles. I occasionally receive messages meant for him.
That’s it. And vice versa.
Travis Lyles had a high school best friend named Travis. “People would often call us ‘the Travises,’ because we were the only two in our orbit,” he says. “Other than him, I never really knew anyone else with the name. Until … I came to The Washington Post.”
Wait! Hold the presses! There’s at least one more Travis at The Post, who saw this piece in our editing system and reached out: Travis Meier, editor for Post Opinions. Like me, he enjoys that our “name is of a rare breed,” and he is sick of the constant “travesty” jokes. He once got a “charitable chuckle” from the One True Travis, when he met him and said “Hi, Travis. I’m Travis.”
News
At my wedding, my grandfather handed me an old passbook. My father quickly took it and said, “That bank shut down in the ’80s—he’s just confused.”
Part 2 “Mr. Mercer?” he said again, his voice carrying the weight of bad news and good news tangled together so tightly they were impossible to separate. The second executive,…
Part 2 + 3: I kept $20M in my mom’s safe. Next morning she was gone with it—and I laughed because of what was inside
Part 2 Because the black bag they raced out of that house with only had… Twenty million dollars in perfectly printed counterfeit bills. I had swapped the real purchase packet…
Part 2 + 3: My daughter married a Korean man when she was 21. She hasn’t been home for twelve years, but every year, she sends $100,000.
Part 2 And then, someone called out in a voice I would know anywhere. “Mom…?” The single word hit me like a physical blow. My heart slammed against my ribs…
My sister switched my baby powder with flour as a joke during a family visit. Thirty seconds after I used it, my six-month-old baby stopped breathing. I rushed her to the hospital…
Part 2 “It looks like someone deliberately exposed her,” Dr. Morrison finished. The words landed like broken glass in an open wound. I stared at her, the hospital blanket twisting…
Part 2: I am 65 years old. I got divorced 5 years ago. My ex-husband left me a bank card with 3,000 dollars. I never touched it. Five years later, when I went to withdraw that money…
Part 2 The manager’s heels clicked across the polished tile like a countdown. She was in her early sixties, silver hair pulled into a neat bun, navy suit tailored sharp…
Part 2: At my wedding, my grandfather handed me an old passbook. My father quickly took it and said, “That bank shut down in the ’80s—he’s just confused.”
Mr. Mercer?” the second executive repeated, his voice low and measured, like a man delivering news that could tilt the rest of a life. His name tag read Richard Harlan,…
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