Not a Day Over . . .

Had "bookclub" at the Front last night. Service was slow, unusually slow. Starting so late, we were at the "counter" and I was often in charge of getting the attention of the servers.

As an aside, it was Princess's first time at the Front. She liked the music . . . the six to one ratio (lots of boys at bookclub), but "I don't even want to think about what is on this chair." I offered her a "wipe" a la Monk, but she said she preferred to just not think about it.

So this girl behind me just cannot get a "book" and we start talking -- cause that's what I do at the Front, talk to girls -- it was her birthday. "A boring one," she said. I thought she meant because she was at the Front, standing around talking to Princess and me, but instead she meant her age -- a youthful 26.

I told her that if I was 26 it would be a very exciting birthday . . . in a very trying to impart wisdom on the young way. "How old are you?" she asked. I answered truthfully. "No, you don't look a day over 28 . . . " she said, "in fact, you could pass for 27." I sat wondering what the significant difference was between the two . . . or what she thought the difference was.

She finally got her "book" and bounced off. I realized that every time I am at the Front, my age has come up. I never lie and no one ever believes me. Or they are just trying to be really, really, overly nice. Since I only ever talk to girls (and they aren't usually all that nice, as a whole), I don't think so. So from this point forward, I'm 27 . . . since I could probably "pass" and all.

And the only talking to girls isn't true . . . just mostly true.