People Over the Age of 26

I have a friend who both hates and is terrified of old people. This particular friend is from Houston, Texas. Once when he was visiting Chicago, my brothers and I took him to Old Country Buffet. Apparently, they don't have those in Texas.

We arrived just before noon, still in time for breakfast. My friend was livid. In case you've never had the pleasure of OCB in the morning, it is almost exclusively populated by old people, who have nothing else to do but converse with one another for hours while eating watery eggs and chocolate milk.

This friend of mine claims to have seen an older gentleman gnawing on an ice cream cone, minus ice cream, which apparently was one of the most disturbing and unsettling images he'd ever seen in his life.

Now, I'm not going to go as far as that. For most of my life, I've been relatively indifferent to older people. Sure, from time to time I would swerve my car dangerously in the direction of any older person I saw on the street. Sure, I might have muttered things like "I smell death on you", whenever I met one in the line at the supermarket. But for the most part, I harbored no ill will.

But, a series of events that happened last month have caused me to revise my entire worldview on age and old people.

The first thing that happened, was that I turned 24. That's pretty damn old. I'm just as close to being 30 as I am to being 18. I think that's kind of sad. Until very recently I just assumed I was still a teenager, even though I was in my twenties. I still refer to peers of mine as "kids". I still work for an hourly wage behind a counter at food place. I might as well be 16.

But I'm not. I'm twenty-freakin' four, which means I'm well on my way to be a fully functional adult. Which is more than a little terrifying.

The second event was a dinner party I attended with my girlfriend. Being 24 and an adult means I no longer have friends or a particularly active social life. As I've been told, apparently dinner parties are the preferred method for adults go out and be social. So, Saturday night rolled around, and there I was in the living room of my girlfriend's coworker, surrounded by other coworkers, and graduate-student friends of the host's boyfriend.

It was a tapas party, so it featured a bevy of delicious snackables, as well as some fairly excellent and interesting home-brewed beer.

Sounds like a recipe for a good time, right?

Wrong.

While the host was extremely nice, the food excellent, the party goers friendly, the music decent, this was one of the most boring events I have ever been to. Why? Old People.

I'm not talking old people in the traditional Old Country Buffet sense. I'm talking old people as in the young professional, I have a job, a wife, and we're expecting a child set. Adults.

Look, when I go to a party, I want to rage. I want to put on a bedsheet and pour grain alcohol all over my head. I want beer pong, gratuitous nudity, Tom-O hitting on chicks, loud music, dancing. You know, the good stuff.

I don't want to be locked into meaningless conversations about which train I take from Queens to Manhattan. I don't want to hear about how much rent you pay on your once bedroom apartment. I don't care that you got your furniture from IKEA. For God's sake, someone throw a pie.

During this party, I sent a text to my friend in Houston. I told him I was revising the definition of old person. Anybody older than twenty six is an old person. My apologies to all readers and commentors who are older than twenty six. I'm sorry, but you guys are old. Old as hell.

And old people suck.

People over the age of 26 are no-fun, child-rearing, wine-sipping, job-having, transportation-talking downers.

Thank God that I'll never have to experience that age, as I will be 25 years old having the time of my life in Las Vegas when the year turns 2012 and the whole world ends.

Sweet.

VERDICT:
OVERRATED