Bipolar Ageism

Thursday night, we decided to forego the usual watering hole and head downtown to Full Moon for the opening night of Bear Bust 2003. One highlight of the evening was being told how much of a "baby face" I have, and how young I am. Keep those warm fuzzies coming (pun intended).

Fast forward to 2 am, as we stop by the Perkins near Disney for munchies. Dan ran into someone he knew, who had a tag-a-long 19-year-old ("J" for purposes of the narrative) with him. (It wasn't until later that we pondered the machinations required to have a 19-year-old tag along after a night at a 21-and-up-only club.) After chatting, I began to point out things, like:

• This kid was born in 1984. I remember reading the Orwell book before 1984.
• When Dan and I met (8 years ago, today, thank you), J was 11.
• Dan could have been learning to drive when J was born.
• Similarly, Dan is technically old enough to biologically have been J's father already. Me, it would've been a stretch, I think. I hope.