On Friday, I flew up to NYC to see my family. As I waited on Delta to find enough flight attendants to man our flight, I struck up a conversation with a young lady decked out in Gator gear sitting next to me.
She was indeed a Gator, a Broadcast Journalism senior. In about five minutes I had her whole story. She was engaged to be married to a guy that works for a company out in Silicon Valley. She didn't have a job yet as she wasn't sure where they were going to live. Pretty basic conversation.
She was pleasant and excited and I couldn't help think back to when I was 23 and moving to Atlanta. I had my future at my feet. I remember the excitement of finally being on my own. I had a good job and I had made it.
We exchanged stories about our time on campus. Mine all began with, A THOUSAND YEARS AGO WHEN I WAS IN SCHOOL WE HAD A COMPUTER LAB AND DIAL UP AND TELEPHONES IN OUR DORM ROOMS...
I asked about her wedding, dates, location, you know, all the good stuff.
PEOPLE ARE ALREADY ASKING US WHEN WE ARE GOING TO HAVE KIDS!
This snapped me back to 2014. Goodbye Leonardo's Pizza and Smashing Pumpkins. Hello, Yoysers!
I looked her square in the eyes and with all the sincerity I could muster (without scaring her to death) I relayed my opinion, which I'm sure she wasn't asking for.
WAIT. PLEASE, WAIT. WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE AT LEAST 30. IT'S GAME OVER ONCE YOUR OFFSPRING ARRIVE.
I almost gave her my blog business card (yes, these exist) and told her she'd thank me as she and her new husband travel the world and do whatever the hell they want because they can be young and selfish.
But I refrained.
And that's all I said.