The Way We Were

In high school, my friends and I used to go to "the pier" to be adolescent and stupid. Really, it was a dock on Oneida Lake that smelled like dead fish and worms. Years later, we would return to the same "pier" to party at the Waterfront like grown ups.

Tonight, Cynderballs and I decided we'd do dinner there and find our way to Castaways where she and Mike were married. Mike said, "Let's have a drink at all the bars on the lake. At bar three, we called it a night. In honesty, I couldn't wait to find myself in bed by 10 p.m.. The thought of sleeping in past 5:30 a.m. trumped any late night excursion.

Even so, I truly loved being on the lake eating dinner and pretending we still had the gusto of our youth. The experience was somewhat surreal and I said, "Man, I feel like I'm on vacation." Living a friday night with such playfulness made the evening seem unreal. We're showing our age - home by nine and all - simply because Mike and Cynde needed to make their bed before hitting the pillow.

The good news was I was carded because the waitress thought I was nineteen. Cynde's S. Carolina shades that I was wearing must have really hid the grays and bags under my eyes. I guess I've gone full circle to return to my ol' stomping grounds.