One of the things I love about living in this city is going out to hear live music. I hadn’t done it in awhile so the past few weeks I’ve been making up for it. Last week a friend and I went to hear a few bands in a Lower East Side bar I hadn’t been to. I was wearing jeans, my too long hair in a pony, little makeup. When we got to the door, the bouncer asks for my ID. Now, it could be one of those places where they ask everyone. But no, they don’t ask my friend, who for sure doesn’t look even remotely close to 21, but then, neither do I.
Cut to tonight. We (the same friend and I) go see Nada Surf in a crowded downtown venue. My back ain’t what it used to be, so I take the opportunity to be right up against the stage so I can lean on it, and not have to deal with 6’4″ guys in front of me. Maybe some little hipsters got annoyed they weren’t up front. I don’t know. But I hear behind me, “Must be senior citizens night out”.
Now, presumably they are talking about my going-gray friend, who is several years older than me. But I am 40, after all, so I take umbrage. It took all my willpower not to turn around and hiss at the little twerp, “Excuse me, how old do you think the BAND MEMBERS are?” I’ve known one of the guys in the band, and one of their guest musicians, for 12 years. They are, give and take a few years, my contemporaries. Not that this even matters, even if the band members were 22, am I not allowed to go out and hear good music?
Quite a juxtaposition of events here. But it really is a strange feeling, to not quite belong in either demographic. I’m too old to be young, too young to be old.
Oh yeah, knitting. Still haven’t started that last square. ;)

10 Responses to “Age is Just a Number”

Oh. My. God. See, this is why we have steel toes in our geriatric Doc Martens.

Indeed.

I often remind myself that I’ll never be younger than I am today. But I still walk away from the teeny-bopper clothes in the shops.

But you look great.

I had a weird moment like that when I realized that all of a sudden the misbehaving young actors and actresses in magazines were my age, not older than me. And then suddenly, they were just young kids, babies.

And I was a non-desirable demographic.

When did that happen?

nyuk, nyuk, nyuk, “steel toes in our geriatric doc martens.” heeee.

Hey, listen: Imagine being a 46-year-old hick from Vermont. It ain’t easy bein’ me. Heh.

Chuckle, chuckle; at the comments.
Age is just a number. We know that, they’ll find it out later.
Why’s that square not started?

me and you – we’re stuck in the same place right now! :)

That is so funny. I’d definitely ask for your ID before I called you a senior citizen! ;)

Well, I’ll have to ask for your ID the next time you get a cupcake or brownie, missy. We just have more jokey-jokey material now, that’s all. People in general are dumb. You must know that, right?

Thank you – I get this all the time! Admittedly I don’t go out as much as I’d like in this city (although that would be a full time job) but each time is a new crazy way of making me feel like either a grandmother or a kiddie. Is it just that people see women as either old or young – they cant fathom us as in between?

Your self restraint is laudable.

I think I might have been violent, if not verbal. Aggressively verbal.