What happened was truly a watershed moment in my life. It was a moment from which there is no return. No going back. Once this bridge is crossed, there is no path back to the other side.

 

 

I am 40 years old.

Forty.

Four -- Zero.

The mirror on my bathroom tells me I don’t if I look four decades old. I certainly don’t feel like I'm living in a body born during the Kennedy Administration and before the Beatles had a number 1 hit. Part of me is still a kid that has never gown up, living and working in a permanent state of adolescence. My wife will testify to that, as will my creditors.

All those illusions were shattered last night by a bored-looking eighteen-year-old pimply-faced ticket teller working at a movie theatre. What happened was truly a watershed moment in my life. It was a moment from which there is no return. No going back. Once this bridge is crossed, there is no path back to the other side.

It all happened innocently, when I least expected it. The things that change our lives the most usually sneak up on us -- without warning. Moments that change us forever are not scripted by the Gods of fate -- they just happen without regard whether we are prepared to accept these changes or not.

What happened, you ask?

As I stood in line at the Orleans Cineplex, I approached the ticket counter. I laid a $10 bill upon the counter and asked for a ticket to the feature attraction. Then, the crass question came, a lead-tipped bullet of a remark that left me speechless and so perplexed that I HAD to reflect later upon the implications. It's a question I've never been asked before, but will surely get asked again, and again in the years ahead. Before too long, I presume I will ALWAYS be asked this question, and that's then I know my time has run out.

Two words were uttered, and the threshold of youth crumbled and old age began.

The teller looked directly at me and asked, "senior citizen?"

"Senior citizen?"

Who is he talking to -- me? I looked behind me, certain the high schooler must have been talking to someone standing behind me. He can't be talking to me, right? I mean, this weathered face may have a few miles on it, and the gray hair is coming in around the temples, but I'm still a quarter century removed from being a senior. Up until a couple of years ago, I still used to get carded occasionally at the grocery store when buying beer. I'm still 25 years from qualifying for the senior discount. Hell, my own mother and father are not even 65 yet!

"Sir?"

"Huh?"

"Senior discount?"

Holy shit! I'm old! Get the pine box ready.

I didn’t know what to say. My eyes wandered up towards the electric display with movies, times, and prices.

My eyes were drawn to the admission price -- $7.50 for a regular admission, and $5.00 for a senior citizen.

"Sir? Senior Discount?"

"Yeah, senior discount. Thanks," I said as I handed the teller a $10 bill and received $5 in change. I guess there are some advantages to being "old" after all.

Time to leave now -- I've got a 4:30 dinner engagement at the local cafeteria. Afterwards, we're going to play some bridge. Dog damnit, where are my glasses?