My youthful appearance that is.
Though I have many of the calcified habits of an 'old coot', to the eye I look no more than 25 years old.
Taking the plane home to Boston on Sunday I was seated next to a coed of uncertain age. The best guess I could make would be in the range from 15 to 25 years old. Note that is another stark 'old coot' trait - the inability to estimate the ages of anyone much younger.
This girl was sitting there next to me while we idled on the runway for 90 minutes; thumb-typing away the entire time on her cell phone at a pace I simply could not believe (with one hand, mind you!). And I'll bet she was probably just an average speed texter, for her demographic. Still, I wouldn't wager a nickel on her precise age.
Then, later on, I saw in her bag a laptop and several spiral notebooks. That would most likely put her in college or high school. Ignoring the outside chance of grad school, I narrowed her age range from 15 to 22.
The next evidentiary exhibit was some study material she pulled out. Even without my glasses, I spotted the word "racism" at least twenty times on one page.
Aha! She had to be in an American college student!!! Right? Narrowed down to between 18 and 22.
Now I mostly tried to sleep on the plane, having been up for the past 1.5 days or so, give or take, thanks to an all-night bender after 30 holes of golf on Saturday. Though I did find time to whip out my spiral notebook and brainstorm some blog ideas. The young lady clearly strained to see what the heck I was writing. As did the Harvard chick to my left across the aisle. There was NO WAY they could decipher an iota of my illegible scrawl; I can't even read it.
Point of fact, the Harvard dork next to me had procedural questions to ask the flight attendant about how to *assist in the event of an emergency*. I kid you not. (We were seated in the emergency exit aisle. Remember, I always LIE about my willingness to help others in *the event of an emergency*. Every man, woman, and child for themselves!)
But getting off the plane, I asked the girl next to me what school she went to. Brandeis, was the answer; and she was a 21 year old senior.
She then asked me, "What school to do you go to?"
Now this MADE my day, my weekend, and has a good shot at getting me through the next month.
I laughed. Told her only that I "have been out of school a long time". (Almost 13 years now).
She followed up, "You still carry around a monogrammed backpack???"
Yeah, I do at the airport. It's my wife's from her college years. I also had sneakers on, an Old Navy t-shirt, and jeans to go with my freshly shaved head and spiral notebook.
I should have told her I was a student at Tufts or Boston College. I should have pushed the envelope; gotten her number; and tried to invite her or get invited to a college party.
How much fun would it be to go to a sorority formal at the age of 34!?!?!?
Obviously, I'm going to have to ask Mrs. C-Nut for the go-ahead. Though, in general, she's pretty close-minded about stuff like this.
3 comments:
I'm gonna' get you for that Harvard comment, scrotum head. Please, you were trying to ascertain her age...try figuring your angle. Let's be honest. And since it's a couple weeks until my 37th birthday, why don't you forward those digits this way!
Bi-Coastal, er Bi-Tom,
Okay, this girl was like 6'3, had red hair, thick glasses, asked *procedural questions* about emergency exit responsibilities, AND wore a Harvard sweatshirt.
Do you have a more appropriate term than *dork*, vulva-face???
Happy birthday you dinosaur!
that sounds all too familiar, unfortunately. Oh, I'm a dinosaur alright. Some days I feel like my ankles went on vacation...not so nice. One year closer to the senior tour!!
Post a Comment