No One Shops In The "Old Adults" Book Section

When I was a kid I was convinced by the year 2012 we would have a drug that makes you immortal. How hard could it possibly be to make a pill where your body turns to armor and you don't age? What are we paying scientists for? To cure cancer? DNA Testing? Vaccines for unforeseen diseases? Bollocks, I say! I don't really say "bollocks," but it's a nice thing to write in print and makes me seem more "couth" or as the British say, "Pip Pip!" The fact that the calendar will turn to 2012 and we will be no closer to a cure for mortality aches the soul of an 11 year old me.

Also soul crushing for an 11 year old me? Being out of fruit roll ups.

Every year around this time I'm reminded that I won't live forever. No matter how many times I let a spider bite me or run into a lightning patch (is that a thing?) or try to book a 5 day/4 night stay at the Downtown Krypton Regal it never works. (The previous sentence brought to you by the Nerd Association of America. Come on down and check out our literature on more things that won't get you laid.) As I get older in age, hanging out with my family becomes a 20 Questions game where every question is "When are you getting married?"

We never specified if it was a person, place, or thing.

The perpetual barrage of marriage questions does get cumbersome at times, but it's not without merit. When you get into your 30s the questions start because your parents are worried about their impending morality. Sure, that may be macabre (word of the year 2011), but if scientists actually did something (see: above) we wouldn't be discussing it. The past couple of Christmases I've noticed the questions ramping up from once a vacation to now the standard once a day during vacation. It's even gotten to the point that my grandmother who tends to not speak English is telling me on the way to the airport, "Next year I'll be waiting for you to bring something. (Wink, Wink)." It's either a wink or her cataract eye drops. I'm pretty sure that if I bring a pound cake and a button that says, "World's Best Grandma," it won't be the surprise she's looking for.

Maybe I'll make it Universe's Best Grandma. "Grandma, you're the best in the Universe! That includes Neptune! No one even cares about that one!"

The marriage questions aren't necessarily what make me feel older even though they should. What makes me realize that I'm now supposed to be a responsible adult is hanging out with kids and shopping with my mom. Not necessarily in that order and not necessarily together, but necessarily necessary for this story of necessities. I apologize for everything that just happened. I've become what I always feared when I hang out with kids.

Out of touch.

The other day while I was driving in the car my 11 year old cousin turned to her favorite radio station. A song was playing and I had no idea who it was. It was a sort of catchy tune and my cousin knew it so I asked her what it was. That right there should have forced me to do a tuck and roll out of the moving vehicle. I'm asking an 11 year old what music is playing? ME?!? I read TMZ. I have a subscription to Spin Magazine. I've seen Taylor Swift YouTube videos and quite possibly left a comment on one of them which cannot be confirmed. I shouldn't be asking her what it was. Of course, it was Selena Gomez which led into an epic pre-teen rant which included Justin Bieber's Christmas CD, Wizards of Waverly Place, something to do with a promise ring, and another mention of Justin Bieber.

Then she told me to shut up.

It was at this point in the week that I was starting to realize that I'm becoming my dad. No idea what is "hip" or "in” and reading street signs out loud to no one in particular. (Aside: When I tell people he does this everyone looks at me like I’m embellishing for the sake of a laugh. No. This is what he does as evidenced by when I was dropped off at the Airport and he starting to read the Terminal signs. “Terminal, A, B, D. Long term parking. Departures. Arrivals.” He is a walking Rosetta Stone. I don’t know if he does this because he likes reading or to prove to everyone that he is a literate person. Because if he told me could read I would believe him, even though he’s an immigrant.) As I confronted this reality, the next day I went shopping with my mom. We were walking around the mall and stopped in Bed, Bath, and Beyond. My mom was perusing the flatware or some such kitchen item and said she was done looking around. I turned to her and said something I never thought I would say.

“Let’s keep browsing. Bed, Bath, and Beyond has some stuff I want to see.”

WHAT.

It is at that very moment that I understood what being a grown up was all about. I wanted to stay in triple B longer than my mother. The same mother that spends 8 hours in a mall. The same mother that I would be begging, when I was a teenager, to be finished so I could go home and listen to the AM radio. All that I needed to complete the adult outfit were a pair of ill fitting Dockers and the ability to yell at a child for wanting more candy. My morality was in front of me. It’s in front of us all.