We went to dinner  at our favorite sports bar last week. It was 4:00 p.m. There was a meeting of the executive committee of the It’s 5 o’clock Somewhere Club gathered at the bar, but all the dining tables were empty. We sat and ordered, ate, and packed up our leftovers to take back home.

   “We’re just like old people,” Carol said, as we walked to the car.

   “What do you mean?”

   “We ate early in an empty restaurant, and then boxed up our leftovers. Just like old couples do.”

   There’s a lot to unpack here.

   First, I was hungry when we sat down. The restaurant was empty except for the bar, and so service was fast and efficient. We usually split an entree there, but this time I wanted something different and that created the leftovers. It was 5 o’clock when we left, so we still had the whole evening ahead of us. By the time we went to bed that night, our dinner  was fully digested and we slept well. If this is the way old people live, I’m all in.

   I’ve been retired for nearly ten years. Retirees complain they “miss the people” they’d worked with. I never cared for the people I worked with, or people in general for that matter.

   The common view of getting old is that you can’t do the things you used to be able to do. What if you never actually liked the things you used to be able to do? Or you never did all that much to begin with? We’re always told to plan ahead for our old age. Well, I’ve been planning since I was a little kid in that case. That dinner  experience was perfect, as far as I was concerned. No lines, no waiting, no loud voices and no screaming kids. The “dinner hour” is overrated.

   I’ve been retired for nearly ten years. Retirees complain they “miss the people” they’d worked with. I never cared for the people I worked with, or people in general for that matter. Retirement has been a gift. I don’t have “work clothes;” I wear what I wore yesterday, or have been wearing all week. There’s no Monday mornings anymore, no hump days, and the only way I know it’s a weekend is that TV sports start earlier in the morning. (One fellow retiree quipped he only knew it was a Sunday, because that was when the “big paper” came. Only Boomers will get that.)

   People will say you’re that much closer to death when you get old. I was closer to death when I commuted to work, and people drove like maniacs because they were running late. I drove to work in old, beat up cars that were death traps. One car was in about the same shape as the burned out one in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. A cop pulled me over for speeding, because my speedometer was broken, and I had no idea how fast I was driving. Another required a two by four propped against the back seat to keep the driver’s seat upright. Imagine getting rear-ended in that setup.

   All in all, I feel lucky to be alive in my old age. Isn’t that simply a fine attitude to have? Plus, you get to eat early, and nobody looks at you funny for doing so. That 5 o’clock Somewhere Club didn’t even know we were there. Old age is like becoming invisible. Doesn’t everyone wish sometimes that they could just disappear?

   Get old. It’s a gift.