I am getting old. Obviously we all are getting older but I made the jump from a young twenty-something to mid-eighties pretty quickly. It snuck up on me and surprised me and I don’t like it one bit. The first sign that I’d rapidly aged and became an elderly man came last year when my wife was listening to the radio in the car. It was a top 40 station and I hated every single song that came on. Not only did I not like the music but in my head I listed off the reasons why each song was stupid and didn’t make any sense. Thinking that the music is terrible of the generation that comes after you is the sign that you’re no longer a carefree kid anymore, no matter how you may feel inside. I remember how great it was when I finally got my first iPod, the iPod video, and it was so great because that meant I could listen to whatever music I wanted to in the car because normally we had to listen to terrible country music because that is what my mom enjoyed and she thought our radio station’s were terrible.
I realized I had moved from that first stage of early-forties age up into the sixties last night when my wife and I had a sort of date night which concluded at the haunted mid-south corn maze here in Memphis. We bought the tickets and were waiting in line to enter we were surrounded by groups of teenagers (the mere fact that I refer to them as groups of teenagers probably says all you need to know to see my point but I’ll continue). There were people dressed as clowns, zombies, and other murder-y types and they were walking around and scaring people in line while we waited. It’s one thing to be frightened by a man without a shirt and scratches all down his chest or a Stephen Hawking type zombie cruising around droopy-headed in her electric wheelchair but “these teenagers” were massively overreacting, screaming and running from these actors like they were actually in danger of being murdered. My wife and I couldn’t take anymore of these unruly kids who since we were surrounded would be behaving that way throughout the entirety of the maze so we made sure the tickets were still good if we came back another night and we left. Who else other than a cranky old man would let a wild pack of teenagers ruin his fun night out?
A couple of weeks ago at work we got a golf cart for business purposes and I don’t know that I’ve ever felt more joy in my life than when I’ve been driving along the sidewalks in that thing. The only explanation I can think of is that living in South Florida for the past four years has aged me ten times as fast as a normal human being. That’s why there are so many golf courses in Florida, because it gives the cranky old men reason to ride around in golf carts and blow off some steam. When I woke up this morning I was struck with more evidence that I was at least eighty by now. The realization came when I looked at the clock and it read 5:07. I was wide awake at five this morning and this has happened every day for more than a week. I’m struggling to stay up past 11 and I’m up at 5 every day. If that isn’t a dead give away and you disagree with me then all I have to say to you is GET OFF MY LAWN!