You Are a Senior, Aren’t You?

 

I can still chase women, only downhill.

Bob Hope

Like upcoming traffic lights on the highway of life, there are several official mile posts you’ll encounter that signal how far you’ve travelled. There’s your first birthday party, an overblown affair you’ll never remember except on your wedding day, when your parents haul out the dorky photos of you wailing like a banshee while wearing a stupid pointy hat. Then there’s Birthday #10, the first in a series of ten-year anniversaries you’ll view more like innings at a baseball game; the first two are fun, the last two are dramatic, and the middle innings are spent wandering aimlessly around the ballpark looking to quench your craving for beer and nachos.

Turning sixteen can be a pretty neat happening, especially if there’s a car waiting for you in the driveway. There’s also your 21st birthday party, another rite of passage you’ll may have a hard time remembering. The last of the “official” birthdays is reaching the half-century mark, made impossible to forget thanks to that friendly little reminder sent to you courtesy of AARP.

There are also two “unofficial” age-related milestones worth noting. One is the first time you order a drink at a bar and no one bothers to card you. The other is this, which happened to me last Friday at the Lake Chabot Golf Course located high in the hills of Oakland, CA.

Geiger: “Hey Little Brother. What’s the damage for the golf today?”

Robo: “$33. And that includes a cart to haul your raggedy butt around the course all day.”

Geiger: “Bite me.”

(Despite Robo’s doubts, I manage to walk to the Pro shop without keeling over)

Geiger: “Goddard foursome, 2:30.”

Mr. Golf Pro: “Yes, Sir. That’ll be $28.”

Geiger: “Twenty-eight bucks? Are you sure?”

Mr. Golf Pro: “Yes, sir. That’s the senior discount.”

Geiger: (a long pause, served with a side order of shock. I may be senior to Robo…but not that senior.)

Mr. Golf Pro: “You ARE a senior, aren’t you, sir?”

(Why does this thirty-something golf hag insist on calling me “sir?” And is setting the record straight worth losing a $5 discount? C’mon, Geiger. Deal with reality. Unlike Tom Cruise, you can handle the truth.)

Geiger: “Of course I am.”

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