OF WHOLE FOODS, CROWDED AISLES AND A THOUSAND UNSAID THOUGHTS

All I heard was, "Sorry sir. My bad"!

I turned and looked at the young woman that just said those words, and by her confused and somewhat fearful expression, I'm pretty sure I was looking like Clint Eastwood to her.

At least, that was the clear image of myself that I had in my mind when I saw her react to my reaction - my teeth, somewhat exposed and tightly gritted; gunfighter eyes, squinting through rows of compound, weathered wrinkles; a gaze that was slightly askance and panning like a Ken Burns effect in iPhoto.

Her comment came from out of nowhere, so what I really had was that look of confusion combined with repulsion that only Clint does so well. Confusion from the swift and apologetic tone with which she delivered her words; Repulsion because I had an immediate sense that she looked at me as being old.

The word "Sir" when delivered in the manner she did, says she viewed me as a member of a much older generation. The follow up words of "My bad" told me she wasn't. I was part of the Pepsi generation; she was the Red Bull.

The scene was the overcrowded, Cold Point Pub section of the Whole Foods store in Plymouth Meeting, on their opening night.

In a situation where a certain amount of collision is unavoidable and to be expected, we had barely brushed against each other. So when I heard her, it was unexpected. In fact, it left me frozen as I tried to sort through various feelings and questions and my desire to set some kind of record straight. And considering what I wanted to say, it was a good thing nothing came out of my mouth.

Because I wanted to tell her that among the million slights and other acts that range from obliviousness to ambiguity to outright rudeness, that people perform weekly on each other, including the half hundred that I observed in the store this evening, are many that require some kind of apology or smile or small nod of the head. But this was not one of them.

And what I wanted to ask -- after assuring her that it was "no problem" -- was, what was it that she thought happened that required an apology. Or was it me? Did I look doddering and overwhelmed by the crowd. Like I needed extra space... maybe a handicap area for the aged to allow them to sway easier and less impeded by others?  It  certainly wasn't my mass (160 pounds on a nearly 6 foot frame), so it had to be my age.

Because she used the word "sir" and combined it with a facial expression that conveyed that she almost hurt me.

I mean, we were barely in motion. So the outcome of any collision would have been nothing more than a fender bender. No one going through a windshield. No broken bones. No decapitation. This was a girl, who, standing next to her mother, would normally have commanded more of my attention than her mother. But in an instant, she was reminding me that I was 58 and she was say, 24?  And instead of being a woman of interest, was saying she could be my granddaughter.

And other words too. Maybe to start a conversation that would help me understand better, this bizarre little interaction.

And somewhere within that conversation, slip in the words, "I'm not that old. I'm still pretty cool.".

All of which are words better kept to myself

...and the internet.