Twenty-Four
Ran into a kid on a construction site the other day.
He was griping about being tired. He'd stayed out late the previous night.
"Got in at two," he said. "The alarm clock that I set for five-thirty buzzed pretty quick this morning."
"Two o'clock! What the hell could you possibly do until then? Drinking?"
"I had a couple," he said. "Mostly we were gaming."
I laughed.
"Time got away from us," he said.
By two o'clock I had already slept for about four hours. I had drifted off holding my book and it clattered to the floor at about 10:15.
The kid was lugging a sheet of drywall. He was moving way better than me, and he wasn't done talking.
"I'm curious, do you still play video games?"
I laughed.
"My kids talk me into being a whipping boy and I'll play a period of hockey or basketball and quit when they start laughing at me," I said.
"Not to be disrespectful, but did they have video games when you were my age?"
Why that lousy bastard!
He laughed when I laughed.
"Yeah. We had television and cars too," I said. "Airplane travel was in its infancy, but we all had indoor plumbing."
"No! You know what I mean...did you play video games on Saturday nights with your buddies?"
I thought of the Sega hockey league we had developed in our twenties. A close group of friends battled for the cup, and we drank beer, ate great and traded insults.
It was a freaking blast.
There were certainly a lot of nights when we played until two in the morning.
(Of course, Renaldo ruined the league by figuring out how to score with a glitch that no one could defend - And he talks about the New England Patriots cheating!)
I told the kid that the games certainly weren't what they are now, but that we had done the same stupid stuff.
"In fact, I'd love to get the old league going again," I said. "We'd just have to change the start time of the games to about 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning. We're all up at that time anyway."
The kid laughed.
"Just be careful," I said. "You blink your eyes and you're 50."
"I know!" He said. "My Dad tells me that all the time."
That one hurt.
"I've already slowed down a little," he added.
I patted him on the shoulder.
"You're gonna' slow down a lot. Thing is, you won't even know what the hell happened. You'll just be looking in the mirror one day and you'll think, 'Why doesn't anyone like my music anymore?' or 'Why am I falling asleep during Judge Judy?'"
The kid offered a hearty laugh.
"Judge Judy!" He said. "It'd be really lame if you really watched Judge Judy."
As my late, great friend Kimball Patterson used to say:
"Shut the hell up, kid!"
He was griping about being tired. He'd stayed out late the previous night.
"Got in at two," he said. "The alarm clock that I set for five-thirty buzzed pretty quick this morning."
"Two o'clock! What the hell could you possibly do until then? Drinking?"
"I had a couple," he said. "Mostly we were gaming."
I laughed.
"Time got away from us," he said.
By two o'clock I had already slept for about four hours. I had drifted off holding my book and it clattered to the floor at about 10:15.
The kid was lugging a sheet of drywall. He was moving way better than me, and he wasn't done talking.
"I'm curious, do you still play video games?"
I laughed.
"My kids talk me into being a whipping boy and I'll play a period of hockey or basketball and quit when they start laughing at me," I said.
"Not to be disrespectful, but did they have video games when you were my age?"
Why that lousy bastard!
He laughed when I laughed.
"Yeah. We had television and cars too," I said. "Airplane travel was in its infancy, but we all had indoor plumbing."
"No! You know what I mean...did you play video games on Saturday nights with your buddies?"
I thought of the Sega hockey league we had developed in our twenties. A close group of friends battled for the cup, and we drank beer, ate great and traded insults.
It was a freaking blast.
There were certainly a lot of nights when we played until two in the morning.
(Of course, Renaldo ruined the league by figuring out how to score with a glitch that no one could defend - And he talks about the New England Patriots cheating!)
I told the kid that the games certainly weren't what they are now, but that we had done the same stupid stuff.
"In fact, I'd love to get the old league going again," I said. "We'd just have to change the start time of the games to about 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning. We're all up at that time anyway."
The kid laughed.
"Just be careful," I said. "You blink your eyes and you're 50."
"I know!" He said. "My Dad tells me that all the time."
That one hurt.
"I've already slowed down a little," he added.
I patted him on the shoulder.
"You're gonna' slow down a lot. Thing is, you won't even know what the hell happened. You'll just be looking in the mirror one day and you'll think, 'Why doesn't anyone like my music anymore?' or 'Why am I falling asleep during Judge Judy?'"
The kid offered a hearty laugh.
"Judge Judy!" He said. "It'd be really lame if you really watched Judge Judy."
As my late, great friend Kimball Patterson used to say:
"Shut the hell up, kid!"
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