Sitting here in the sports bar of the Philadelphia airport awaiting my continuing flight to Kansas City, I have two things on my mind. One, I am thirsty for a locally brewed amber lager. It’s the first thing that I crave when coming back to the States. And two, I turn thirty in exactly one week.
Apparently, thirst for alcohol and thirty are now more related than I thought. I just ordered a beer and started fiddling through my wallet full of USA cards and miscellaneous objects, looking for my American drivers license since the bartender was inevitably going to ask for my ID. But, to my surprise and utter disappointment he didn’t ask for my ID. He poured me a beautifully golden pint and walked away.
This is the first time I have NOT been carded in the States. And it’s kind of a big deal. Bars are really strict about carding “young-looking” people here, especially in the airport. I asked the bartender if he wanted to see my ID, and he responded, “No hon’, it’s cool. I know you are old enough.” He laughed. I laughed along with him, all the while trying to keep the wrinkles around my eyes from crinkling too much and adjusting my bra straps for extra leverage and push.
Apparently I no longer look like I’m in my 20s.
Maybe that’s because I’m no longer in my 20s.
I have not given too much thought about turning thirty, mainly because I am not afraid of getting older. And in general, the 30s are supposedly awesome years for women. It’s when women seem to be at their peak and I look forward to reaching my peak as well! That said, I think it is affecting me on a more subconscious level. These past few months have been full of new life aspirations, many of which have to do with “settling down” and finding a career path and some stability. These are sure tell signs of getting older. I had been warned by many that turning thirty marks a big turning point in the lives of women, but I honestly believed it would just happen and things would remain the same. But truthfully, I do feel different. These past nine months have been full of radical changes and journals full of new thoughts and desires. Not to mention a biological clock that ticks like crazy. Perhaps this 30s business is getting under my skin after all.
So here I raise my cold, sweating lager glass to make a toast to my thirst and my upcoming thirties! I will embrace this new decade of my life with open arms and perhaps some anti-aging creams.