Several associates and I are celebrating birthdays over the next couple of weeks.

Loyal Scaiaholics know a trip to one of the casinos in Oklahoma is a tradition. But this year, the celebrations started early.

One associate’s parents threw a party on Fort Worth’s iconic Near Southside. At one point, I suggested he do birthday shots of tequila.

“But wait,” I had an epiphany, standing with two other associates. “We all have birthdays coming up. We should all do birthday shots. It’ll be like college!”

“We’re all in our 30s,” another associate replied.

It turns out this birthday shot situation would have involved us taking about 120 shots of tequila. That would have sounded excessive even if I actually enjoyed tequila.

“Brendan’s party is this weekend,” I reasoned. “Let’s start now, and we can continue at each affair.” Then we took exactly one shot and everyone agreed we’d like to call it a night. We’re not old.

A college associate also has a birthday around mine. I was recently going back through old emails to find a particular message from the ol’ baseball days, and came across a very chilling Gmail chat we had around our 25th birthdays about how we expected our lives to play out in our 30s. Reid and I had kept in touch [in fact, we attended a Rangers game when he was in town for business earlier this year].

This is exactly what people in their 20s think about middle age:

Alan: Five more good years. That’s it. Then it’s all over. Then I’ll have to get married and an SUV. Then start caring about how my yard looks compared to the yards of the neighbors.

Reid: And going to Christmas concerts. At the elementary.

Alan: Yes… also PTA night. Then the wife will start some sort of home pottery course because we never talk anymore and she’s trying to fill a void in her life.

Reid: And parents’ lunches at the cafeteria… and little league… and graduation… and your daughter dating a “bad boy.”

Alan: I won’t notice she started dating because Old Man Harris will be really busting my hump down at the office. And we’ll only find out she’s going out with that punk from down the street when our Canasta partners tell us.

Reid: Hahaha! Canasta! Classic!

Alan: Of course, we’ll try to discipline her, but she’ll rebel and move out. The wife will blame me and say how this isn’t how she envisioned her life.

Reid: You’ve put up with a lot. I mean, your daughter is messing around, you got beat by the Johnsons at Canasta and your wife isn’t doing your laundry.

Alan: And there’s pottery stuff all over the house.

Reid: You can’t go to counseling because your wife’s parents are still alive and she doesn’t want to shame them.

-0-

I’d like to thank Gmail for keeping a record of the idiotic things I’ve written. “Old Man Harris is really bustin’ my hump” seems like something Jack Arnold would say on The Wonder Years.

Reid and I are revisiting this chat right now. We agreed this discussion seemed kind of dark, especially since we were both in relationships [he’s now married] and probably at work at the time. I’m not sure why it didn’t work with the woman I was dating in Portland. Obviously, I had the right attitude.

Also, we feel like we should start discussing our 40s. That’ll give me something to blog about next year.

In conclusion, we took another shot at Brendan’s party a few days later, so that just leaves 118 birthday shots to go! I am not an old man. I’m just as “hip” and “with it” as I was in college. Full disclosure: I never did birthday shots in college, either. I also had already started putting quotes around words young people use.