It was Late in the Evening- or good golly, I am getting old

Team Monkey went to see Paul Simon this weekend.  Fret not, this will not be one of my typical reviews of something where I deem everything awesome.  But…. If I were pressed to give a one word description of the show- it might just be awesome!  Seriously though, it was very entertaining; Simon played things from the span of his career and the musicians he played with are amazingly talented- just watching them perform and switch instruments was treat- beyond the amazing song book.  

But all of this is not quite blog-fodder.  Attending this show reminded me that, indeed, time marches on and I am getting old.  I would guess a good portion of the crowd that night was eligible to be AARP members.  Security was likely to be briefed on using a heart defibulator, rather than pepper spray.  While all of this seems par for the course when seeing a 70 year old performer- what I did not expect to see if how much the tide had turned regarding bathroom use.

It seems as if any public event I attend the line for using the ladies room is quite long.  Often, I have been part of that line- making friends, seething at others for lollygagging, cursing the building designers for making inadequate facilities.  Meanwhile, men just sipped in and out of the door- with nary a care in the world.  Over the years, I have spent less time in these lines- moderating my beverage intake and already knowing without having to look that yes, my hair was a mess, and no, nothing in my pockets was going to remedy that.  But ladies and bathroom lines- it is such a cliché- no?

 All of that seems to be changing.  Perhaps the prostate is the great equalizer?   While the ladies bathroom line might be the bane of the young woman- it also appears to be the bane of the old man.  I don’t think I had ever seen a longer, slower moving men’s bathroom line in my history of attending public events.   I wanted to be slightly thrilled- seeing them finally get their comeuppance- but men are not fun to mock- with their sad faces and misery-filled eyes.  

Along with bathroom use changes, I noticed the dancing at this show was notably bad.  Your Aunt Charlene dancing to “Boogie Nights” at your last family reunion had Dancing with the Stars level dance skills compared to this crowd that was so unable to find a beat that all audience clapping devolved into applause.  Is this another thing that goes with age- rhythm? 

So, between the Ben Gay enthusiasts and younger viewers, who largely chose to watch the show through the video recorder on their phones, we sat.  Perfectly in the middle, and perfectly happy.  So far, getting older, not so bad at all.