It's Official: I've Become One of Them

Yesterday I met my mom at the mall to get our nails done together. Usually I love going to the mall, even if all I'm doing is sitting and waiting for my mother to arrive. But yesterday felt different to me.

I arrived around 5:30 to find that the parking lot was filled with a bunch of teens running here and there and carelessly crossing in front of cars without even looking. I parked my car next to the bus drop off and had a strange unsettling feeling as I locked the door and walked away from the crowd of noisy bus waiters.

When I got inside the mall, I saw that I had beat my mom there, so I decided to do my usual people-watching. There was no room on the benches next to the nail place, so I walked a little further down and stood next to the second floor railing where I could watch the people walking past me as well as gaze down on the people below me. And I found myself being very critical of those around me.

"What is that kid wearing!" I thought as one boy walked by wearing unreasonably tight black and white checked pants and brightly colored high tops. I remember when it was the girls that would garner the "I'd never let my child out of the house looking like that" looks. But yesterday it was only the boys who offended me with their clothes. Of course, that could be because I had a hard time distinguishing between the boys and the girls. What happened to the Clueless girls who wore short skirts and knee socks and walked around with armloads of shopping bags? Instead I was surrounded by loud, angry, punk-ass kids who looked more like unisexed My Chemical Romance wannabes than the cheerleaders and football players I used to watch.

Eventually I found a spot on one of the benches and sat myself down to continue waiting. There were a couple of girls sitting behind me, keeping a running commentary on their opinions of the other people around us. I remember thinking, "that's really not a very appropriate thing for you to be saying" several times and once, after a hushed, and rather harsh, comment of "don't look at me, you gross guy. As if you had a chance" as a perfectly normal-looking (okay maybe a little dorky) guy walked by and glanced her way, I thought "Honey, you should probably look in the mirror before judging him."

When my mom finally got there and we headed into the salon, I told her about what I had witnessed. "Am I getting old or are the teens these days worse than when I was a kid?"

Mom laughed. "Sorry, sweetie. You're getting old."