I've gone by many names and spelling variations throughout my life. So many so that girlfriends past have also been unsure of what to call me. I even have gone by Kyle amongst a special group of friends of mine. Stories have emerged for amongst each of them, and they are all at least partially true, to an extent.
But here it is.
The true story.
Or as true as I believe it to be today.
"Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another... If I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!" - The Joker (Batman: The Killing Joke, 1988)
The year was 2003. I was thirteen and had just begun a soon-to-be dismal middle school career. I had a few friends, not a ton, but I certainly wasn't lacking any. Feeling a need to rebel from my over authoritative parents, and never having really loved the name I was born with, I wanted to change my name. I decided to change it from Zach to Zak, because I thought it was unique and personally, cool as Hell.
At the end of the school year our entire seventh grade class (200ish?) took a trip for the weekend to Chicago. While in Chicago and on Navy Pier, I bought myself an Orange Navy Pier hat (I promise this ties in later) that I wore every day. People knew me by that hat. I'd be riding my bike through my hometown and people would come up to me days later and tell me they saw me, and they knew it was me because of my orange hat. My own parents loved it (still hated the name) because they could find me if we were at a family reunion at a park or something to that effect.
Flash-forward a year. Now I'm in eighth grade and really getting into the punk rock and metal scene. I had picked up the bass guitar and was about to play a Metallica cover medley with my band at that years school talent show. And as expected, my role models were covered in tattoos, one of which was Ozzy Osbourne. One of my favorite tattoos of his was simplistic enough, "OZZY" written across. I looked down at my hands and said "Damn, my name only has three letters in it." So I thought, "What the Hell, I'll just add another 'K' at the end."
And so I did.
Flash-forward again a year or two (or three, I can't always remember!) and I was visiting Chicago with my family. We return to Navy Pier, and I sneak off and return to the hat shop were years previous I obtained my legendary orange hat. I find out now that they make custom hats and I decide to have one made. My new hat was the same bright orange but with big black lettering reading "ZAKK" across it.
It was official.
Mom was pissed. Dad was apathetic. Sister thought it was awesome.
The hat became more legendary than the first. For the first time ever, everyone knew who I was (and not just because the hat had my name across it). It was a great conversation piece and ice breaker.
I wore that hat for years, finally retiring it in 2008 after my new dog chewed it and destroyed the brim. But since then the name has stuck. I even have two different resumes, depending on which I think they will like better.
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