Why Can’t I Be What I Am When I’m That?

I just heard on the radio, seventy is the new thirty and I think that might be true.

I live in a resort community on the Gulf Coast of Florida. I grew up here, and our seasons dictate the age bracket of our tourists. Currently, we are at the end of Snowbird Season; they are typically about seventy years old.

Most Snowbirds are crabby. They cut in line. At the mall; at the grocery; it doesn’t matter. And they steal sugar packets at restaurants; especially the yellow ones, and leave nothing for the next diner.

The Birds feel like they come first, and they make sure you know it.

And most all of the Snowbirds are bad drivers. I don’t know how they get here alive, but they do. If a Snowbird needs to make a U-Turn (and they always do, because they can’t see over their dashboard to read signs or remember where they are going), they will only pull their land yacht half-way into the median. It’s like: if their body is over the center line, then they are safe. And it doesn’t matter if two-thirds of their car is blocking a million cars in another lane of traffic.

Snowbird drivers will cut you off too. Once your car is within three to five feet of a Snowbird’s boat, they will pull right out in front of you. Even if there is nobody behind your car for miles.

Thankfully, a Bird’s car is usually light-colored; although, an orange safety flag or a flashing yellow light on top of their car wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Dear Governor Scott…

So really, I don’t see much difference between the entitled attitude of some seventy-year-olds who cut in line, steal sugar packets from the next diner and badly drive land yachts; and the entitled attitude of some thirty-year-olds who aggressively drive SUVs, hold up a cashier while their child runs across the store to fetch a forgotten item, and allow their kids to fondle restaurant condiment dispensers.

I think seventy-year-old people already behave like they are thirty. And I don’t want to behave like I am thirty when I’m seventy. I want to be a responsible, mature seventy-year-old, when I’m seventy. What’s wrong with that? I plan to own it!

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