Okay, so it happened. I finally realized that I am old. As someone who is always ALWAYS mistaken for someone younger, this was like a kick in the crotch. I was flying back from Nashville on Wednesday and was seated next to a young man who, at first glance, looked like a punk. Over the next SIX HOURS, we talked a lot and I realized that I had misjudged him. He was actually a very sweet kid, and he had never been in a plane before. He was from Pennsylvania and was headed to Alaska to try to get a job on a crab fishing boat, like on The Deadliest Catch. Since he was only 5’3ish and had never been on a boat, I was wondering just how realistic that notion was.
The following excerpt is from the conversation that made me realize that I’m knockin’ knock knockin’ on death’s door:
Kid: So, how old are you?
Me: <Sigh.> 34.
Kid: NO WAY. That can’t be right. I thought you were, like, 23 or something.
Internal Me: Bless you.
External Me: Yep, I’m 34.
Kid: How old do you think I am?
Me: 20?
Kid: 18.
Me: <prolonged silence>
Internal Me: Oh. My. God. I. Could. Be. His. Mother.
Depressed Me: I could be your mother.
Stupid Kid: Yeah, my mom’s 36.
Suicidal Me: <silence>
Not cool.
Mamadance 