Fifteen years ago we were just starting college. Friday nights meant going out with friends or having people over to celebrate. Seems there was always something to celebrate. The world was our oyster, and we were there to claim it. We started late and ended late, and probably didn't care if we were disruptive. I had a great time but I had a reputation for not being able to hang. I've always needed my sleep.
Ten years ago we were barely out of school, and working our first jobs. We were living single and living large. We each had an apartment and were trying to act like we were grown. Friday nights meant meeting downtown for happy hour, and accidentally staying for 5 hours. Oops! We were mature and mindful enough not to be disruptive.
Now, Friday night means heading to our neighborhood pizza place, two kids in tow. It means cups with lids, and please sit down, and we're going to need more napkins. It means one kid cracks up when he hears a song that says keep your hands to yourself, and then goes wild when his favorite, We Will Rock You, comes on. We have to make him keep his dance solo in our booth, as his excitement spills out into the aisle, aka dance floor. The other alternates eating pizza with signing more and all done, and gets a dose of Tylenol with dinner. We are MOST definitely disruptive. This period of our lives is probably more disruptive to other diners than any other period so far. We run into people. We accidentally bounce their booth for 30 minutes. We make a huge mess, and we are loud. Then while we're cleaning the mess someone is bound to dart off, and we have to chase after them. Sometimes when I see people looking at us I see a little smile, and I don't know if it's pity, or understanding, or if maybe they're just entertained by this disruptive, loud, messy cloud of chaos that goes with us wherever we go. Not just on Friday nights.
The "Keep Your Hands To Yourself" song
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