Due to a rare confluence of events, I found myself with several hours Friday night completely to myself, to do with as I pleased. The little was having a sleepover at grammy’s, the teenager was cheering on the local high school football team, and my wife was working an extra shift. Typically this time would be spent at the casino, doing my part to make reparation for the sins of my forebearers, ( seriously, how is Columbus Day still a thing in this country?) but instead I was feeling reckless ( financially responsible ) and made another choice, instead opting for a saloon that I used to frequent known for having live music on the weekends.
It didn’t take long to begin regretting my choice. The bar in question has changed ownership many times over the past twenty years, but the constant has remained the stage. When I first started going there that meant alternative cover bands, jello wresting on the weekends ( I swear I’m not making that up ) and the kind of clientele that would graciously leave a rolled up dollar bill in the bathroom for the next patron. I wasn’t feeling especially nostalgic for that atmosphere, but was still surprised by a bar full of hipsters, most of the guys either looking like Jerry Garcia or Jon Snow. They leered contemptuously at me, whether at my Adidas T shirt or my Coors Light draft I’m not sure. When the kid next to me started talking about the hint of tangerine flavor in his beer, the smell of cheap marijuana became overpowering, and several band members began tuning up their trumpets, I realized that it was time to go.
Somewhat depressed by the sudden realization that there could potentially have been people there not yet born when I had first entered that establishment, I went elsewhere, determined not to be in bed before the band actually began playing. My next stop was a private club that I had first joined when I used to play golf at a nearby course. The baseball playoffs were on television, 38 Special was playing on the jukebox, and I was secure in the knowledge that the discounted Jack Daniels and Sprite I was sipping was helping reimburse the cost of the yearly dues. The average age was approximately a decade older than myself.
As I write this it’s 11:30. I’m scribbling words into a notebook that the dog is trying to eat, The Force Awakens is playing on Starz, the teenager is upstairs and safe, and I’m fairly confident that I can stay awake another half an hour until my wife gets home. If you’re reading this, it means that Saturday morning I was able to decipher my chicken scratch.
My life isn’t what it used to be, the years starting to catch up. For those that don’t know, there is yet another birthday closing in on me. I find myself oddly content, admittedly perhaps aided by the Jack Daniels, but I feel that tonight I have found the answer, the fountain of youth, the Holy Grail. The first part being contentment, happiness with where you are in life. The second, surround yourself with people that are much older than you are.
—
This post was previously published on ThirstyDaddy and is republished here with permission from the author.
—
◊♦◊
Talk to you soon.
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project and want to join our calls on a regular basis, please join us as a Premium Member, today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
—
Photo credit: istockphoto