For this month's Suppah Club, we headed to Fuji 1546, a happy sushi place in the Q with brightly colored pendant lights and smiley Japanese people that are to the attitude what wasabi is to the sluggish metabolism. The wait staff puts your pinot grigio on ice. The menu accommodates those who don't put things in their mouths with names like "seared saki belly," offering "Turkey Club,""BLT," and "Philly Cheese Steak" sushi rolls as alternatives. Quincy riff raff begin trickling in around 8 p.m., frontloading Scorpion Bowls in anticipation of karaoke. It all added to the energetic vibe that we were desperately craving on an icy late winter evening.
With the exception of the glow-and-fro Flaleys, all were in need of some escape from their current realities, whether it was seeking amnesty from corporate America or getting a rejuvenating chemical peel. There is little doubt that the dead of winter exacerbates the inner hag, and that was evident in conversations and actions. There was a slight reprieve when the 19-year-old waitress, seemingly oblivious to our old lady aura, carded all of us. (Big tip). After that, it was all memory lapses and liberal applications of hand cream and discussions of how pale dry skin makes you want to do insane things, like go tanning. And not the “safe” kind where creamy chemicals mutate your skin into a “healthy” glow, but those old school radiation booths, the electric coffins that actually cook you a little.
At some point, we discussed how living in an active adult community would be fun, sort of like college with money and wisdom. Then Auntie dealt a verbal reality slap about how her parents, who have a condo in one of these AACs in Florida, spent last Christmas Eve "caroling for the shut-ins" Silence. Joking about feeling old is one thing, sharing a peer group with people who can no longer feed themselves is quite another.
Perhaps the current mindset was best summed by LPD. While rummaging through my purse for my camera, ("Do you have any hard candy? Any sour balls in there?")I commented on its elderly contents like tissues and Purell. LPD tilted her head to one side and said: "you don't look elderly, you're just doing elderly things." It's all a state of mind. Once we cease doing elderly things, we can turn it around. There is hope. Happy places like Fuji help; I think all we need is a little sunshine and a few Zumba classes.