Part III

Again for reference: my regular signature, which looks like it was drawn by an unusually talented chicken.

Next I tried the old standby, "X." I was kind of nervous about this one, and had a long story prepared about how I had recently been involved in a motorcycle accident, and during my sixteen months in traction had only been able to sign with an X, a signature which grew on me. At the last minute, I chickened out and added an additional squiggly. I don't know why I was concerned; I was just buying a beer at Jillian's.

Signing X, incidentally, is not a bad idea -- it's quick and easy, and if someone wants you to "sign on the X," it's already signed.

Next, I took a suggestion from ZUG reader Nutbutter, and tried signing with a stick figure. Before the server came back to my table, though, I decided it looked too lonely, so I tried drawing a little landscape. I forgot that I have the artistic ability of a piece of toast.

(That thing that looks like a penis is supposed to be a flower.)

Finally, I know of no law that says your signature has to be in your own alphabet. So I found a website which converted my name to Egyptian hieroglyphics. Although "John Hargrave" was too long to remember, "John" was just snake, bird, caterpillar:

The counter clerk at the salon was busy with a phone call, and didn't notice. On my way out the door, I realized it would have been funnier if I had signed it "Ra." Which got me to thinking: what if I didn't even sign with my own name?