I must be getting old… which is funny because I don’t feel like it. Sure, there are the traditional, telltale signs: the grey in the goatee, the aching back, the ever-receding hairline and the increasing frequency with which I’m called “sir.” Apparently, we can now add my taste in beverages to that list.
I recently worked a private, graduation party for a friend/co-worker. Her eleven year-old daughter was among several of the under-aged people in attendance. Needless to say, Shirley Temples were the flavor of the day.
After drinking about eleven of them, the guest of honor’s daughter, cute as a button, asked me if there was anything else I could make her. I guess the grenadine was finally getting to her, her tongue dyed bright red. I offered Coca-Cola but she bluntly informed me that she wasn’t allowed to have any caffeine.
I then asked her if she liked juice and she shot me a look as if suggesting something healthy for such an engagement was entirely inappropriate. After all, this was her momma’s graduation and she was there to party.
Since pineapple, orange and grapefruit juice were out of the question, I mixed her up a glass of my favorite cocktail to imbibe while I’m working behind the bar: half cranberry juice/half soda water. The bubbles settle my stomach and the cranberry, even though it’s cocktail, still gives me the impression I’m ingesting something somewhat healthy.
I handed over the glass. She looked at it skeptically, took a sip, made a face, then looked at me and said “My grandmother would like this” as she walked away.
Wow, belittled by an eleven year old. I mean, it’s not like I’m drinking prune juice, but I guess aging is something none of us can avoid. Not even those of us who feel eternally young.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my heating pad.