December 2024
By Richard Fleming
Photo courtesy of Stephane Juban
Even though I often feel middle-aged, society views me as a senior. Unequivocally and unambiguously. I try to be unobtrusive and not too disruptive as I navigate the highways and byways of living life as a senior. But the reminders of my true status are constant and unavoidable.
A few recent examples illustrate my point.
My wife and I went to Las Vegas in late October for a few days to spend time with old friends. Most of our time was spent eating and reminiscing about the past. But we also indulged in some activities on our own.
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After we arrived in the city, my wife discovered Kamala Harris was having a rally in North Las Vegas during our stay. We decided to attend, since seeing a presidential candidate live and in person is an uncommon opportunity. And we were feeling optimistic she could win.
We took an Uber to Craig Ranch Regional Park, where the rally was to be held. Wow, was it crowded. In fact, the front entrance to the venue was closed off. We feared we had arrived too late and they would turn us away. Campaign volunteers were standing at the entrance and we asked a nice young man if we could get in. He assured us there was still room, but we would have to go to the far side of the amphitheater to be admitted. He pointed us to a spot 10 yards away and told us to stay there to be picked up by golf carts transporting people to the back entrance. We went to the pickup place to wait.
After a while I noticed the same campaign volunteer telling other latecomers – folks younger than us – they could walk around the perimeter of the amphitheater to the rear entrance. We looked at each other and agreed there was no need to wait for a golf cart when we could just walk with the other people. The walk was simple, about a half mile on level ground. A couple of golf carts, all carrying old people, lapped us. Clearly the young man at the entrance was trying to be nice and solicitous since we appeared to be old.
The rally ended up being amazing. The turnout was huge, the crowd was very diverse by age and by race, and people were very excited.
We had two take-home messages from this experience. First, size truly doesn’t matter. Harris’ rallies around the country were larger than Trump’s, but she still lost. And second, young people view us as old and a bit fragile. While I appreciated the staff member’s courtesy and concern, it also felt a bit humiliating. He did not ask us if we were OK walking a half mile to the back entrance or did we need a golf cart. He simply assumed we were members of the golf cart generation.
* * *
We also went to The Sphere in Las Vegas, a massive orb which hosts concerts, conferences, and multi-media events. Our ticket included a visit to an area inside the venue where we could interact with several robots powered by artificial intelligence. We were among the first to arrive and walked right up to a robot to talk with her. It was fascinating. We spent a while asking the robot questions and answering her questions of us.
Finally, after about five minutes, the robot asked if we would like to take a selfie with her. Of course we said yes. We turned around and saw there was now a small crowd of people behind us, waiting to chat with the robot. We knew we should quickly take our selfie and get out of the way. I pulled my cell phone out, found the camera app, and started to flip the image to selfie mode.
At that point, a charming young teenager standing right behind us with her family said, “Here, let me take your picture.” She quickly grabbed my phone, took our picture with the robot behind us, smiled, and said, “I took a lot so there should be good ones for you.” I appreciated her gesture. But I also realized she knew that if we old folks tried to do a selfie, it would take forever. She knew that she could speed things along if she just took over. Young people can be so adorable and so thoughtful. Harrumph!
* * *
And then there was my fumbling attempt to tap my credit card on the payment terminal in a coffee shop at the hotel where we were staying. I thought I finally knew how to tap cards but was having hard time with this particular machine. I tapped one place that looked correct. No response. I tapped another promising spot. Still no response. I tried once more without success, so the cashier took my card and did the tapping herself. She said to me, “It’s OK, I understand.” Four simple words, which spoke volumes.
* * *
These brief and unremarkable events over the course of a few days in Las Vegas brought home to me that, truly, I am no longer middle-aged nor am I viewed as middle-aged by the world in which I live. I should not complain. I know the folks I was interacting with were trying to be helpful and patient, and that is far better than if they were acting frustrated and impatient. I also learned that what happens to old people in Vegas does not stay in Vegas. Quite the opposite.
I need to let go of the lingering illusion that I stand on the threshold of old age. I’m sure one day I will fully embrace my status as a senior. Maybe in 2025?
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