Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Old People Central

It’s so bizarre going to the land where there are old people as far as the eye can see. I went to the pool and it was old people soup. Other Half’s mom, aka MIL, moved to central Florida a couple years ago. I don’t understand the point of living in Florida if you don’t live 30 minutes or less from the beach, how silly, but I digress. This is the land where the primary mode of transportation is a golf cart. Senior citz can get to the Wal-Mart, the doctor’s office, the Home Depot, the grocery store, all from the comfort of their very own golf cart.
The old people have personalized their carts with extra cute personalized license plates from wherever they originally hailed:



Sometimes their plates espouse an entire ethos:



Sometimes their plates are obvious (because old people don’t do subtlety):



Some carts have striped awnings, others are festooned with pin-striping, or with the names of the occupants in gold letters (the man’s name always in the driving spot and the woman on the passenger side.) There are golf cart parking stalls everywhere. It gives one the sense of the Lilliputian.

Even though my MIL has yet to even hit 60, she enjoys being an “Active Adult.” She lives in an “Active Adult” community. I wonder what kinds of adults aren’t active (Maybe the 500 pound kind?) AA communities are filled with signs like “Caution: Adults at Play.” They think it’s funny, but really, you should be filled with caution because sometimes those playing AA get into their cars and drive.

Senior citz are funny. I called MIL’s husband to leave my number on his caller ID and MIL said, “Don’t bother, he doesn’t understand how to use called ID.” How do you not know how to use caller ID? It’s not like he’s a 110 and met Van Gogh once, he’s in his 60s!

Everywhere I went I was the youngest whippersnapper around. Well, me and the kids. We went to a doctor’s office and in the waiting room were old people, lots of them, in their natural habitat: reading Readers Digest, wearing double knit pants, complaining about the cold air conditioning, complaining about the humidity, and silently chewing what might be cud. The kids were great, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that because there were children, that they just existed, that they were doing something naughty.

We went to Wal-Mart (to kill a piece of my soul) because that is where old people shop. The cashier spoke in a loud voice to a woman in her late 70s informing her that she and her cart of 200 bajillion useless items were in the 10 item only line. “I KNOW THAT” she responded, “I JUST WANTED TO TAKE A LOOK AT THIS.”

The cashier had a look on his face that exhibited all the pain of creation.

I bet he has to repeat that conversation constantly. I bet the cashiers fight over who has to take the 10 item line. The Wal-Mart was even worse than it normally is: a store filled to the brim with senior citz, shopping in pairs, meandering, fighting with each other, complaining about the price of everything, carts in your way always, and shuffling.

I’m pretty sure old people, like Bengay-smelling zombies, are taking over the world. Here is my evidence:

1. I was talked into wearing a visor

2. I agreed that maybe she should get a perm for body

3. I wore Capri pants and tennis shoes (at the same time)

4. I nearly got talked into playing Pickleball

5. I heard about the history of Mah-Jongg

6. I learned that you can’t trust them Muslims (it's "in their blood")

7. I think I could really use a golf cart


Bek said...

You kill me. That is exactly like where we live except they drive Jag's instead of golf carts. EVERYONE is old. I also have the feeling that my kids are always doing something wrong just by existing....

I love the walmart stuff. It is so true...

kiki said...

I had a lot of flashbacks to the last three months of my mission in Yuma, AZ. DID YOU SEE THE MERCEDES AND BMW GOLF CARTS?! I couldn't believe it. Who needs a MERCEDES golf cart?!

compulsive writer said...

Wait. Mercedes makes golf carts? Gotta get me one of those.

In another 40...

Sally said...

You are cracking me up! I thought I had seen all senior citz when we visited Branson, Missouri last month but obviously we didn't even scratch the surface!

How would you decorate your golf cart? What would your license plate say?

Emily said...

Ooh, central Florida sounds FUN!

Kalli Ko said...

I spent the weekend with senior citizens as well. My 67 year old father got all butt hurt when I insisted on driving in the city because I didn't want to hear him swear and get all pissy becuase the traffic makes him anxious.

In our ward we have 2 AA communities, 1 nursing home, and 2 townhouse communities. It makes for an interesting mix.

Azúcar said...

I just have to close my eyes when MIL's husband drives. I go to a happy place.

My plate?


more caffeine, please said...

So funny! 18 gets creeped out by old people. His plate would say,

Geo said...




Geo said...

W8N2DI—That's more like it.

Lindsey said...

And most of them are from NY and NJ, so they're bad drivers.

Laquina said...

That was quite possible the funniest entry I have ever read. I'm sitting in class listening with ears stretched open to catch all the knowledge of Geog 101, except I'm actually reading your blog. And a couple of times I muffled laughed at loud. Then came the tears from trying to stifle my muffled laugh. Room 321 of the SWKT thanks you. And my license plate would read:
I can't let go of my racism

RC Cola! said...

I think having a license plate saying FARTSY would be ideal for my future Mercedes golf cart.

Am'n2deep said...

Wait, do I have to be old enough to be living in an AA community to steal that license plate idea from Geo? W8TN2DI.

Some days, you know...

Maybe I'd better stick with something original, like... AMN2DEEP?

elizabeth said...

I don't even know your real name. But someday - I would like to meet you and have a bake off. You would probably win.

sue-donym said...

COME HOME NOW. You are scaring me.

kiki said...

My plate would say something like MOVE.

annette said...

Mah-Jongg sounds like fun. Oh no, you're right!

I would have my cart "adjusted" to go extra fast, then enjoy the looks on other's faces (in the rear view mirror, of course) as I drove passed.


Marie said...

Hey...pickleball is fun! Don't knock it 'til you've tried it!

(I took the loser sports class in high school for people who wanted PE credit but didn't want to actually break a sweat. We did pickleball, juggling, bowling, badminton, and GOLF. See? I was old before I even left high school. However, in my defense, I hated golf.)