This weekend, I found out that I am too old for this shit. Consider the following item Murtaughed:
I am too old to try to travel to NYC, stay out until six in the morning, go to a diner and get breakfast and hop on a bus back to Boston, pass out on the bus, and then be able to have a productive day back home.
I used to be able to do that. Not anymore.
Now, after about twelve hours of drinking at events surrounding the Cornell-BU hockey game at Madison Square Garden, at 3 a.m. I was ready to fall to the floor in a heap, assume the fetal position, and welcome death. Even though I did pass out on a couch for four hours, slept through most of the bus ride, and took an hour-long nap at home, I still feel like I ran two marathons. I've rarely been so tired in my life.
You know that scene in Almost Famous when the kid finally comes back home, walks into his bedroom, and approaches his bed with arms outstretched in a state of utter bliss while a choir plays softly in the background?
That's going to be me at approximately 9 pm today.
Also, I'm too old to sleep on a couch. Everything is creaking. Good Lord.
2 comments:
You're not old, you just haven't gone drinking for a month!
I was with you until your description ended with having a productive day. I've never been young enough for that.
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