In the shadow of my approaching 50th birthday, at 1:44 pm EST on Saturday, November 16, 2013, I officially became old.
Worse than the first time I was called “Sir” or visited my old graduate department to find it populated with children, I was verbally punched in the gonads when a young man (early 20s?) offered me his seat on the westbound subway near Coxwell Street station.
Adding insult to injury, the subway was not busy—there were other seats available—and I was only carrying a notebook while he was burdened with a large knapsack, a cardboard box and a binder.
I graciously thanked him for his offer while refusing it and then proceeded to die a little bit inside.
Now, if he’d offered me a senior’s discount at the liquor store, well…