Like a Fine Wine

It takes a long time for a person to realize they're young
- Pablo Picasso

Last night I went to Radar Magazine’s toast to the “New Radicals” - not the band - which they were billing as a celebration of the “most exciting rogues, renegades, and rule-breakers of the year.” I don’t know about all that but Ed Koch was there as well as Bret and Mel from Flight of the Conchords and a bunch of people who wear funny hats and feel comfortable with open displays of homosexuality.

The event was held at the newly renovated New Museum (I could devote a whole post to complaining about this name but for readability sake I wont) and there was an open bar which proves that you don’t only get what you give.

I got plastered on free Svedka vodka, and stumbled around trying not to knock over any of the coke heads. At one point I thought I saw John McEnroe and then I realized it was just an old guy. That was the type of party it was. Everyone was young and everyone was trying to see famous people. There is a certain look people assume when trying to see famous people and it requires they look through everyone who is not famous. Many of the individuals at the party struck me as the type of people who always look through everyone who is not famous.

Anyway, the party was generally forgettable much like the magazine which I always confuse for a music mag but the McEnroe incident did get me thinking about age.

One day last summer I went out to the east end of Long Island to visit my grandparents. We were all sitting in their den when my grandfather complained that often times he doesn’t hear what my grandmother says because the pitch of her voice is not picked up by his hearing aid to which I said “it’s either that or the 60 years of marriage.” For the next three seconds (the longest of my life) there was dead silence in the room and then thunderous laughter from both of them.

They laughed because they thought it was funny but more importantly they laughed because they would have laughed at such a joke for their entire lives. I’m slowly coming to realize that we’re always the same. No matter how old I get I’ll always be the same person as I am right now. Getting older might change my activities and behavior but it is not going to change my outlook on life or who I am at the core. I’ll still laugh at the same things I think are funny now and I’ll still get angry at the things that anger me now. And as far as behavior goes I’ll still want to get drunk and flirt with pretty girls. The fact that I wont be able to is inconsequential because I’ll still want to do it and that’s what really matters. That’s who I really am.