Last week I was eating a late lunch in Long John Silver's. I had a kinda mixture of sloppy looks going on -- a long-sleeved green shirt that said "Guinness" on the front, under a big short-sleeved black Hawaiian-type shirt hanging open (it's mostly black and has a couple flowers on the bottom part of the back), some baggy Levi's, and my old running shoes. I've got 12-gauge captive ball earrings, but if there was anything feminine about me it was the shirt. I hadn't shaved in three days.
I get my food and go sit down in the front window and start poking around at my laptop. The only other people in there were three guys in a booth wearing Carhartt jackets and marginally tight jeans. I'm 32. These guys were probably late 30s. I had gotten up and walked past their table three times to get hot sauce and a couple refills.
So, these guys are talking about whatever, then the alpha mullet actually says, "In my day, a fella wouldn't go wearin' earrings in both ears," and the others concur. Actually, I forget if it was "guy" or "fella." They only had a little bit of a southern accent, and they weren't trash -- they were clean and looked like semi-respectable contractors. None of them looked at me, but I was the only other person in the place.
But anyway, what's that about? Who says "in my day" when they're under 70? And if you're 40 years old at the most, when exactly is your day? When you were elementary school people liked Boy George and Queen, and it was cool in some circles to have a rat tail and a gold stud in your left ear, but the 90s was more about short hair and no earrings. Am I to assume that by the time these guys were 22 years old, their "day" was already long gone? That's a sad place to be at!