I usually hate it when people give me the whole Oh I’m so old, look at all you young’uns! spiel. I have always believed age is all in the head. And that’s probably why a lot people ask me to act my age for a change. Others cant believe I’m on the wrong side of 25. And some others keel over in disbelief when I hit panic-mode with a fast approaching birthday. But that panic attack lasts just a few weeks, after which it really makes no difference at all where I am, or how old I’m expected to be.
But every now and then reality strikes. And last night, strike it did, yet again.
When we accidentally tumbled into the town’s only night club on a Thursday, full of hope that it will turn into a happening night.
When the mash up of classics (mind you) the club played, included everything from Destiny’s Child to Evanescence, and Linkin Park to Limp Bizkit, and Sophie Ellis Bextor to Natasha Beddingfield. Yeah! Would you belief Natasha Beddingfield is now considered a classic! What the eff!? Did someone hit fast forward when I wasn’t looking?
When the mash up played on and on and I had lyrics rushing to my mind, and found myself singing along effortlessly.
When a few odd tracks here and there reminded me of a time when I’d spend one day a week on average at one of Bangalore’s favourite night clubs, bobbing up and down, tirelessly, into the wee hours of the morning.
When I realised that was actually ten whole years ago, and then I quickly realised that I was also 18 a decade ago (Yes, this is me officially, shamelessly declaring how old I am).
When I jumped out of my seat at the sound of the slightest classic dance tune, and jigged my booty till it hurt, and it transported me back in time.
When I watched hormonal kids (and I cringe as I see myself type out the word, I still hate being called a kid by condescending 30-somethings, but maybe I see where they’re coming from now?) around me as I felt wistful about the years gone by, when I remembered the tingly rush of preening myself for the dance floor back in the day. The only reason for which was to let my eyes roam, scanning the assorted eye candy there was to be seen.
When I dragged the husband out to dance, and realise I can still feel that same twinge I did the first time we were ever on a dance floor together. This time though, it’s without the anticipation, but with the comfort and acceptance that comes with familiarity.
When I realised that we still move the exact same way, the both of us. Me with my bum-jigging limbs-flailing moves and he with his effortless, yet precise moves.
When the night felt like it could go on and on and on and when we were closing in on 2 a.m., I realised I hadn’t been out that late in months.
When the night ended with everyone in varying states of hammered-ness and assorted levels of inebriation, ranging from nearly collapsing to walking crazy to giggling hysterically and I suddenly wanted to be the one to make sure every one of them got home safe.
When I then realised that I was in fact one of the two oldest people in the group, the only other person older than me being the husband.
When I stumbled out of the party and felt that heady rush of the alcohol back into my head, and I realised my body doesn’t handle the alco like it used to. One two many rum and cokes, and a couple of shots, and I was ready to send the water and calm the fuck down already.
When I finished up the night after ferrying various people back home and ensuring they were back home safe, sound and in one piece, and the husband and I drove home silently thinking we can’t do this as often anymore.
When I drifted off to sleep with this track on loop in my head. This is what you call a classic dammit!
When I woke up this morning with a heavy head, dehydrated throbbing muscles.
When all I could think of doing was immersing myself in a morning of Fleetwood Mac.
When I realised that much fun was had and despite everything I felt, I will probably do it all over again one day. And that right there, is proof of the child in me.
When suddenly Roger Murtaugh and his epic line came back to me, and I chuckled, thinking, he could not have been more right.
It’s official. I’m too old for this shit.