My friends and I are turning fifty-nine this year. I know—unbelievable, right? Seems like just yesterday we were fifty and trying to figure out how to dress, what car to drive, what sort of laptop to use. Now we’re like, fifty-nine. It’s so cool. I went into the Minetta Tavern the other night with no reservation and they looked at me and you could tell they were all like, better get a booth for this guy. I don’t make a big thing out of it but, of course, I enjoy it.
The only bad part, I have to admit, is that there is a certain type of person… How can I put this? A certain type of younger person who doesn’t always totally get that when you’re fifty-nine you expect things to go a certain way—not because you’re snobby or think you’re super cool but just because that’s the way things are. And the type of person I’m talking about—I don’t really know a polite way to say this—is a particular kind of fifty-six-year-old.
I’m not saying this about all fifty-six-year-olds by any means. My sister is fifty-six and she’s great. She and her friends are into their things and they don’t try to push it on me and my friends. They care about whose daughter is getting married to whom and my friends and I talk about prostate exams—and there’s no us trying to get into their bridal discussions or them wanting to know if Cialis really makes you puke. They respect the boundaries.
But not all fifty-six-year-olds get it. Like, the other night my friends and I went to the Knicks game and then we all went to Monkey Bar and got a big table. There were seven of us at a table for eight. So we’re sitting there talking about whether Mannix was a better detective than Ironside and up comes this fifty-six-year-old I know from work and he says, “Hey! Is this seat taken?” Nobody says anything. I’m embarrassed because I know him sort of and he just plops down in the empty chair and tries to jump into the conversation. But he can’t because he really doesn’t know anything about Ironside and Mannix so he starts trying to turn the discussion to “Starsky and Hutch.” Everybody gets quiet while this kid just talks himself into a corner and finally Hornoff leans across the table and says, “Look, we all got our drivers licenses in 1971. Nobody here ever watched ‘Starsky and Hutch.’ ” And the kid just acts like, oh no big deal and asks me if I’m going to finish my French fries.
This sort of thing happens more than you’d think.
by Bill Flanagan, New Yorker | Read more:
Image: Colin Hawkins/Getty
The only bad part, I have to admit, is that there is a certain type of person… How can I put this? A certain type of younger person who doesn’t always totally get that when you’re fifty-nine you expect things to go a certain way—not because you’re snobby or think you’re super cool but just because that’s the way things are. And the type of person I’m talking about—I don’t really know a polite way to say this—is a particular kind of fifty-six-year-old.I’m not saying this about all fifty-six-year-olds by any means. My sister is fifty-six and she’s great. She and her friends are into their things and they don’t try to push it on me and my friends. They care about whose daughter is getting married to whom and my friends and I talk about prostate exams—and there’s no us trying to get into their bridal discussions or them wanting to know if Cialis really makes you puke. They respect the boundaries.
But not all fifty-six-year-olds get it. Like, the other night my friends and I went to the Knicks game and then we all went to Monkey Bar and got a big table. There were seven of us at a table for eight. So we’re sitting there talking about whether Mannix was a better detective than Ironside and up comes this fifty-six-year-old I know from work and he says, “Hey! Is this seat taken?” Nobody says anything. I’m embarrassed because I know him sort of and he just plops down in the empty chair and tries to jump into the conversation. But he can’t because he really doesn’t know anything about Ironside and Mannix so he starts trying to turn the discussion to “Starsky and Hutch.” Everybody gets quiet while this kid just talks himself into a corner and finally Hornoff leans across the table and says, “Look, we all got our drivers licenses in 1971. Nobody here ever watched ‘Starsky and Hutch.’ ” And the kid just acts like, oh no big deal and asks me if I’m going to finish my French fries.
This sort of thing happens more than you’d think.
by Bill Flanagan, New Yorker | Read more:
Image: Colin Hawkins/Getty
