Age, it's a terrible thing. It catches up with you in all manner of ways that you don't expect. You go down the stairs in the morning and your knees ache slightly. You think, WTF man, I used to zoom down flights of stairs like this in one mighty leap?
Being a cheery sort of soul I usually bat away feelings of decrepitude in the same way I wave lazily at a bothersome fly.
After all, it is only a number right? However today I was presented with a genuine first world problem.
That fantastical activity of youth. Getting jiggy to the beats in a darkened cavern. Preferably having imbibed lots of beer and tequila shots before hand.
The thing is though...
When are you too old to go clubbing?
Today I was on my lunch break, happily minding my own business. I was sitting outside by the river near my workplace admiring my finely muscled arms as they dipped into a packet of crisps and transported them to my mouth. A fine activity which I have taken up with relish instead of smoking.
I might lament this new hobby in a month or two but heck, one problem at a time.
One of my work mates popped up like a zit before a wedding.
Alright dude, enjoying the sun?
Aye, its magic.
He opened his cigarettes, lit one and breathed out a satisfied cloud of smoke.
Want one?
His offer was genuine but the rabid dog inside my head that passes for my brain on a Friday snarled with indignation.
Nah, it's cool mate. I've chucked it.
Really?
He looked at me in that slightly disappointed fatherly way that smokers do to ex smokers who have decided to leave the club and forge their own path.
I changed the subject rapidly so as not to spend my whole lunch break talking about cigarettes and asked him what he was up to at the weekend.
Cannae wait man, got Praia the night. Mad after party in SWG3. It's gonna be mental.
That sentence above might not make much sense if you don't live in Glasgow. Essentially though, he was going on a mad dancey boat ride on the river (Praia) followed by an even madder after cruise club night. The very kind that I used to quite enjoy.
Hey, av goat a spare ticket. Ye up for it? We're gonnae tear the roof aff the place!
Errm, too short notice mate. Fatherhood and all that jazz. Sorry.
Of course man, of course. Hey, wait... Its the Optimo's 20th birthday party in a couple of weeks. You up for that?
The world stopped turning, his smokey smoke hung still before us both. This is exactly the kind of night I used to be a huge fan of. These nights are rarer now, what with being a dad and all. It's not as much fun to go out and come home at five in the morning half deaf and smelling of pizza. Then having to deal with a demanding toddler one hour later. I thought fast and furiously.
Should I go? Should I not go?
Was I too old at forty odd to go clubbing? My heart said no but an insidious voice in my head sneered at me.
Old bastart, you are too fucking old. Behave yourself. Dick.
The silence stretched out, my work mate took a big enthusiastic drag on his cigarette and blew out a massive cloud of smoke. Bollocks, some of it seemed to be getting in my eye.
Err, I will check with the missus dude. Should be cool
No worries, tap me up if you are goin and we will go as a squad, rip the arse right oot it!
He wandered off. My eye watered slightly. Was it the smoke? Or was it a tear for my erstwhile clubbing career? It had been so long.
Then I thought, Fuck it. I am gonna go. After all, who could resist the temptation to...
Rip the arse right oot it!
But still, that little voice mocks me. Old basturt. It says.
