Old folks are welcome to this Happy Hour, too

Funny thing about getting old. Unless you look in the mirror, you don’t typically FEEL old. I, for example, usually feel as if I’m still 19.

Yeah, I can hear my wife saying, and you act like it, too. When I hear that, I just jump on my skateboard and fall down.

Anyway, I was reminded the other night just how old I actually am. We showed up at The Steam Plant Grill for Happy Hour, having made plans to join friends there. So we walked up to the 20-something woman working as that evening’s maitre d’ and told her we were meeting another couple.

“Oh,” she said, “you mean the old people?”

Ummmm, what? My wife and I looked at each other. Then I turned to the woman.

“You mean old like us?” I asked.

My sarcasm didn’t faze her. “Right this way,” she said, her smile brighter than a Ramos Fizz.

Good thing the beer (mine was the pilsner above; my aged friend opted for something darker and more bitter) was cold and the Happy Hour appetizers were cheap and tasty. Good thing, too. Otherwise, I might have stamped my old foot and had an old person’s pout.

Under the Smokestacks: serving all ages.