old girls gone wild

In my young, party days, we visited many haunts.  One in particular always stood out in my mind.  The Copper Penny.  Oh-- it was hardly cool.  It sorta smelled funny.  We were amused going there because of the plethora of middle age singles that liked to get their groove on.  High quality people watching fodder.

Recently I went out for a beer with my friends.  My nearing middle age friends.  I started sizing up the bar and realized... I had wandered into another Copper Penny!  Perhaps it's because I am now an over the hill loser wiser and more compassionate, but something changed. 

I didn't see embarrassing clothes and dance moves.  I didn't see desperate singles looking for a second chance for love.  I saw us.  The parents.  The teachers.  Children of the eighties.  And right then I realized we deserved a break from reality.  Good for them, those scantly dressed, love handles women dancing with their silver fox, mullet sporting objects of desire.  Good for the wine cooler drinking women and their smooth moves, gold chain romeos.

Where were all those tight skin, pretentious youth that usually cause such an embarrassing ruckus?

I yawned.  It was 11.  Starting to get tired.  Then I noticed all the young people starting to accumulate in the parking lot.

Oh, that's right.  Young people don't start their night until now.  Not until after I've tucked myself into my back care mattress bed, wearing my eye wrinkle cream.  After I've paid the bills, kissed the children, and done a quick check on my 401k.

But until 11, it's Copper Penny, baby!