It was our final year at Hollydale Elementary – home of the Hooters. Yes, the Hooters. We went through five decisive weeks to determine the future mascot of our elementary school. Nothing was more important to a snot-nosed 12-year-old kid looking to vote between the Hollydale Hamsters or the Hollydale Hooters. We were practicing our God-given right of voting between two terrible choices (sounds like we would need the practice for the 2016 Presidential election).

No surprise here but the Hooters won. However, I was surprised there was not a lawsuit from that one restaurant chain -- you know the one. I could see it as being shameless enough to sue an elementary school for stealing their mascot and name.

Teachers shook their heads. Some of us understood the reference. We would giggle and high-five one another. A vote is a vote -- we were the Hooters, a mascot that still resides over the school today. Word turned out years later that Hooters, the restaurant chain, was not all too pleased with our democratic choice, but I will save that for another story.

That's beside the point. I was in the fifth grade when my identical twin brother, James, and I decided to switch classrooms for the day. Feeling rebellious and looking awfully similar that day, we designed a game plan and started talking to our friends to get them in on our scheme. Operation “Parent Trap” was a go.

James was a student in Mr. Theodore's class. Mr. Theodore was known as a stickler for rules. The risks were all there; get caught and spend the rest of my fifth-grade in study hall, where hopes and dreams go to die. The man was so merciless, he offered a small Band-Aid to a student who broke his wrist during recess.

Then there was my teacher, Mr. Porterfield. He was not nearly as stern; however he was very professional. Porterfield was nearing retirement. He was ready to buy a motor home, move to the countryside and write a book on his memoirs. If James were caught, he would survive the consequences.

Then again, we were not too concerned about consequences. We were concerned with doing one bad thing utilizing our twin abilities before leaving Hollydale for good. We were straight 'E-for-excellent' students. Trouble was something we avoided but we wanted to get a small sample of the criminal life.

When the 8 a.m. bell rung and all the pieces were in place, there was no better opportunity. Lindsey Lohan would have nothing on this switch-up.

James walked into Mr. Porterfield’s class and my buddy signaled the thumbs up through the rectangular window on the door. So far, so good. Now, it was my turn. I walked into the dragon’s lair that is Theodore’s class and see my buddy signal me over. He pointed to a seat and I immediately sat there to avoid looking like a lost puppy.

Roll call began and I prepared myself for my brother’s name to be called.

“Heatherly,” Mr. Theodore says. “Is that Darrin Heatherly?”

“Here!” I said. I pounded my fist into my head repeatedly, saying, "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

A young Darrin started to yell profanities only a fifth grader would know.

Theodore was in on it the entire time, tipped off from Mr. Porterfield who called him quickly after he discovered our blueprints written on a scrap piece of paper on my desk. We weren't professional criminals. The first rule is to never leave a trace and we left a cookie-crumb trail with bright signs that screamed for attention.

Fortunately, to my surprise, we were not in any trouble. In fact, our teachers were so impressed that we tried to pull off something so elaborate that we were allowed to stay in each other’s class for the rest of the day with no consequences. We were pardoned.

Every identical twin has been asked at some point in their lifetime: “Did you guys ever switch classes/roles?”

One can go to jury duty for you, show up to an interview or even a blind date. We have experienced these thoughts more than you can realize. If we loved one another enough, we would probably go to jail in one’s place. This relationship I share with James is unlike any I can fathom within a family.

The truth is, I would go to jail for him. I was never more excited about being a twin than when we finally decided to use it to switch roles. Our relationship has sometimes been defined by these wonderful moments and our ability to see eye-to-eye so quickly.

The truth is clear; no one understands me like my twin brother.

I can cherish our stories and our relationship for a lifetime.