Today was a cup brimming with Old People. And not the good kind, either, who flutter about with their cute, eye-magnifying bifocals, pointing out the orangeness of oranges to strangers in supermarkets. Interneters, I encountered the very worst breed of Old People today. I call them ‘The Grey Train.’*
*actually, Greg called them The Grey Train in a text message.
It all started at the gym. The gym I go to has always been a breeding ground for Old People (and metrosexuals, but that’s besides the point). I was waiting to fill my water bottle at the water cooler. A gaggle of female Old People were chit-chatting in front of it, and I said “Excuse me” to them. WHOA. REALLY shouldn’t have gone there.
Female Asian Old Person #1: “I juh came back fom Aruba, look a my TAN! I look BLACK! I don like it!”
Female Caucasian Old Person #2: [Clearly spends her Social Security checks at Tropic Tanning] “I WISH I was as tan as you! I look SooOooO white!” [Looks me up and down, makes face of disgust at my skin]
It happened again in the steam room. To make the most of my steam room experience, I climbed to the top bench and stretched out. BIG MISTAKE.
Female Old Person #3: [Enters steam room, looks at me] “HHHHhhhhh.” [Sits down and sulks on bottom bench]
Me: [Thinks about moving legs to make room, rethinks due to passive-aggressive ‘HHHHhhhhh’, keeps legs stretched out]
Old Person #3: [Leaves]
After leaving the gym, I drove to Shaw’s to purchase some second-rate produce. Being a Tuesday afternoon, Old People were EVERYWHERE. I was feeling up cantaloupes when..
Male Cart-Pushing Old Person #4: “helLOOOOO”
Me: [Looks up at Old Person, stares]
Male Cart-Pushing Old Person #4: “Can you MOVE your CART?”
Me: “Sorry.” [Glances at giant open space big enough for 2 Subway Jareds pre-Subway Diet to stand in, moves cart 2 inches to the left]
Male Cart-Pushing Old Person #4: [McCains past]
On the drive home I reflected on my encounters with Old People, and The Grey Train breed. Why did I lack the balls to sass them like I sass everyone else? I know it’s not out of “respect,” because some Old People are just aged versions of people I hate, and if I don’t respect the younger ones, I don’t respect the older ones. I know it’s not out of fear, because I could have easily fired a couple of cantaloupes at Old Person #4’s head, then apologized to his wife for having to share a life with his ass. I think the answer is this: I don’t sass old people because I don’t want to validate their opinion that “Young people are a buncha punks who have no respect for their elders.” So it may appear that I have respect for you, Old Persons #1, 2, 3, and 4. But really, I don’t.