Last night, my husband and I went out to dinner at one of our favorites places. We love this place because there’s always a high top in the bar, the average age of the crowd is between 45-50, and the food is delicious. It’s one of those places that word hasn’t spread yet, so we don’t have to wait for a table on a Saturday night at 7. It’s our place.
But last night was different. It started off normal, we were able to get our high top in the bar, and ordered our favorite appetizer. Then it happened…the young crowd started pouring in…pouring in as if they were dropped off by a bus. The young crowd just kept coming, taking up every available space around us, standing in front of the bar, and blocking our view of the televisions.
“Oh man, the young kids are here.”
“What’s happening to our place?”
“Agh! There is so much flannel and backwards ball caps!”
And we continued to complain. We asked the waitress about the crowd and found out that there was a party in the back. The best part about it was, these ‘kids’ weren’t actually doing anything annoying, we were just being grumpy thirty somethings.
“I bet these kids are about 25 years old!”
“Yeah, remember when we were that young? Did we act like that?”
Then the birthday girl came out. She came out in her birthday sash. Her birthday sash that said “Flirty and 30.” 30? Crap…these ‘kids’ were our age. I think we like that restaurant so much because we fit in so well with the 45-50 age group.