I Think I hate the Senior Citizen Label!

Really!  I hate being a Senior Citizen when I travel!  I go up to the counter, in a strange city, far from home, and the first question is, “Are you a Senior Citizen?”   Let’s think about that!  The suggestion is that I’m old.  Yes, I look old.  I look exactly like my grandfather, three weeks before his demise.  And he was ten years older then I am now when he passed.  So, I look old.  I’ve looked old since my late 40‘s.  Get over it, I have.  I’m the one who has to trim this grey beard each time I think it needs it. The next thing I want to know is, who am I Senior to?  Who do they think I’m Senior to? I am not of Social Security age, yet.  And I’m in the top third of my generation.  The so-called Baby Boomers.  Not my fault.  My parents wanted more children, so I was their second choice.  I’m content with that.   In fact, I’m positively ecstatic about that.  They were great parents.  And the 50’s was the golden age for being a kid in America.  At least for me. Lionel trains;  Superman and Buffalo Bob and Captain Zero on TV;  Swanson TV Dinners;  Davy Crockett hats;  Ovaltine;  scary movies like “Frankenstein” and “Dracula” on late night TV;  “Ben Hur” and “The Shaggy Dog” in the movies;  sand lot baseball;  and entire summers as a vacation at the beach.  Yes!  I am not senior to my parents generation.  They might think I was just presumptuous if I tried.   And nobody in my generation thinks anyone is senior to them.  Go ahead, ask them. So, who am I senior to?  All the people younger than me?  Pul-ease!  That dog just won’t hunt! Okay, I’ll grant you that I am a citizen.  I was born here, in Washington, DC, and it doesn’t matter when that was.  So, you just need to quit asking.  Yes, it was before the 50’s, since I remember them.  But I don’t remember the 40’s.  I was too young.  Satisfied? And, yes, I am grumpy.  People always asking questions they don’t need to know the answer to.  But I could just as easily be a dwarf on hormones, escaped from a fairy tale, and not an old fart.  Or, I could be a character actor doing research for a role, in full makeup.  You just don’t know. So try something else if you want my info.  It’s not free!   There’s a discount?    (Contritely!) “Why, yes, miss, I am a Senior citizen.  And here’s my AARP card to prove it!” So, now I’m sitting in my car, sipping my French Vanilla Cappuccino, three hundred miles from home, and thinking.   I like to travel.  Not only do I have a Travel Bug, but my Travel Bug has a bad case of Wanderlust!   I’ll drive forty miles just to see what’s new in the book publishing biz.  And skim a travel mag while I’m browsing.  Forget Amazon.  I don’t just like to travel.  I love to travel.  By car, by train, by boat;  I’ve even been known to fly the aggravating skies, braving the snarling, crawling web of obstruction laughingly called “Airport,” just to get over the horizon. But I didn’t have much time to travel when I was working.  Always something to do, someplace I had to be for the job, some deadline to meet.  Only got out and traveled on vacations.  But now, on my first time out since fully retiring (LOL! Have to really explain that some time!), taking an overnight trip, for fun, to DC, I’ve run smack into the Senior Citizen dilemma. What’s the protocol?  Do I flash the card?  Will that look like I’m begging for a break?  Do I act like a little old man, fumbling at my wallet, forcing the cashier, and the line behind me, into a frustrated stall?  And then hope I get asked for some proof of my elevation into the ranks of “Senior?” After all, I’m not on Social Security yet, but my income is definitely fixed.  And 10% is better in my pocket than theirs!   So, is it begging? You know what?  It’s not begging!   I’ve earned this.  I’ve been working for over 45 years, in hard, honest labor.  And, after all, they are offering the discount to me. Not really out of the kindness of their hearts.  But as a good, solid business practice.  I’m now in a very large group who is spending money, and traveling to do it. That’s right!  Grey Power, baby! I AM a Senior Citizen! And, yes, I am still grumpy.  And I do still look like my grandpa.  And I’m probably not Senior to anyone.   But I can get 10% off while I travel!  So, there! Open road!  Here I come!Proudly:The Old Guy