The Party

Ever since I could remember, I have loved walking around in public places. I have always been the observation type. The truth is, a lot of comical things can be seen if you just take the time to notice them. As you could probably guess, I've seen a lot of precarious people walk in and out of the Chic-Fil-A doors in the short period of time I have been employed there, but this weekend topped it all.

It was around 3:00 Friday afternoon, I was going through the motions back in the Chic-Fil-A kitchen, cooking fries and chatting it up. We had been relatively slow all day, and I was loving my current state of mind. I noticed that the girls up front all developed a concerned look, and began whispering to one another. I knew something had to be up so I walked to the kitchen door and peered through the circular window. A birthday party. Everyone dreaded birthday parties because it required us all to exert a little extra effort in preparing the food and blowing up the balloons. After informing the others of the bad news, I stepped out into the lobby to get the scoop on exactly what we needed to do in order to get things ready. I noticed immediately that there was something different about this party. There was no childish yelling, no stressed out parents, no children. It took me five minutes of investigation until I gave up, and I went to ask a manager what was going on. He informed me that in fact it was a birthday party, as I had expected, but it was to celebrate two fifty-year-old's birthday. This struck me as very odd, why would a fifty-year-old want to have a birthday party at a fast-food restaurant? I had to get a better look at these guys, so instead of going back into the kitchen to help everyone else out, I acted like I was cleaning tables as everyone sat down. I quickly picked out the birthdayers by their triangular party hats, and their scraggly but cool facial hair. I watched as they brought in cake and other assortments of birthday food, as well as some chicken sandwiches. These two guys were truly awesome. They yelled, laughed, and acted like two five-year-olds at Chuckee Cheese. And on top of it all, their guest list consisted of their mother and relatives. The party winded down after about an hour, and they left after thanking all of us for the food. I couldn't get those guys off my mind for the rest of the night.

When I think of being fifty years old, I see myself desiring solitude. I have most likely lived an enjoyable but difficult and tiresome life, and I will realize it is time for me to settle down a bit. It is apparent to me that these two men do not share the same ideas as me, but I have to admire them. I have often wondered about when I get older, and I look back upon my childhood; will I like it? will I want it back? will I want to re-live it? Well, the two fifty-year-old partiers sure did know what they were doing, and I think I learned a pretty powerful lesson from the two strangers.

Live your life.