Friday, March 12, 2010

You know you're getting old when. . .

Here is another entry in the aging ponderings to go along with my previous one.

Spring break! Sun, flesh, booze and boobs. What more could a guy ask for? Well, I've never been on spring break, at least not the Florida/Cancun/wherever one. To be honest, I don't think I missed anything either. So why am I talking about it? Thought you'd never ask.

I was watching one of those mindless "entertainment" shows the other day, "Wild and sexy Spring Break," or some such. Mostly showed lots of girls in bikinis, wet t-shirts and various stages of naked (all the good bits blurred out, of course). While I was watching, it dawned on me that the idea of being in one of these hot spots for spring break was, well, unpleasant. My first thought was that if I lived there I would definitely leave the area while the revelers were infesting the place. Being around all the partying and sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll would give me a headache. Therefor,

You know you're getting old when the idea of half-naked young men and women whooping it up is a good reason to take a vacation to somewhere quiet.

There are some vague memories in the dusty parts of my mind about my actually enjoying this kind activity. But that was 25 to 30 years ago. And the realization that some of this years spring breakers might consider 25 to 30 as being to old for spring break... Well, it could be depressing if I really cared about age. But, if being old is just a state of mind, then I'm probably not old enough to go on spring break anyway.

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