Ah old people. They conjure to mind black and white photos, Goldbond itch powder and dentures...also, smells of soap, disinfectant and moth balls. At first thought, it would seem that geriatrics are quite possibly the most awkward of all age demographics. 8ut upon closer inspection, do the geezers have us all fooled? Onward Awkward investigates...So today, I was grabbing brunch at a diner frequented by the more senile set. Glasses and walkers, dentures in cups of yellowing icewater (gross?) and silver blue tinted tresses dominated the scenery that lingered inches on top of cholesterol packed hashbrowns and concrete pancakes (which are apparently now referred to as hotcakes, which seems slightly redundant, but whatevs). Anyway, these two old guys grumpily ordered and their meal arrived within minutes while we sat, young and fully-toothed, waiting...and waiting...and waiting. Their order was fast, but not quite fast enough for the two old-timers who muttered bitter nothings and groggled death rattles from some dark mucus addled chamber within. Instead of the waitresses annoyed eyerolls that I've grown expectant of, the old folks received a sincere apology and an inquiry about the state of their french fries. Are they done well enough? The waitress asked fretfully. They both prodded their once-at-some-point potatoes wiyh gnarled fingers and grumbled yes. Their fries had been fried to perfection. The color of their french fries was mouthwatering and I grew envious as I watched them slowly eat a sixteenth of these impeccably produced frites. You could just tell these fries are just right...crispy on the outside, soft and warm within. Well what the fuck? Because they're old, the fryer at some dipshit 2 buck plate diner gets used properly? While the rest of us suffer for wilted, green strings of insta-tots that taste more like the plastic bag they came in than the potato treats they should be? I smell injustice and canola oil.
And then I remembered a story an exboyfriend told me about his crazy grandmother. He explained that she would frequently steal items from pharmacies, speed (? I know) and make insanely inappropriate comments all under the guise of being 'a little old lady'. And it hit me that maybe old people aren't that awkward afterall. If you can excuse the pants-shitting and phlegm tissue wads, the HUHS? And the stories that, like the Lambchop theme song, are literally unending, old people don't have it so bad. We, as a society, just seem to assume they are and so give them these ridiculous exceptions to rules that would never fly when applied to someone under the age of 60.
And so I sat eyeing the men's golden fries, wondering why it looked like my hashbrowns were sprouting, I realized that's why people don't kill themselves at 50. You see, you don't really live until you've got the world convinced your frail and weak and dreadfully old. No, that's where the fun begins. When you can make the Norms waitress your bitch, steal those new padded tube socks from aisle six and piss off that tattooed, speed loving 16 year old couple behind you by driving 26 on the 405. So next time you're asked to do some assinine thing for an old person, scope out the request. You feel like a jackass for asking staff to get that hemeroid cream for some old dude who just asked u, remember he's just old, not Helen Keller. And now you've got two irritated assholes.
