A decade. A pet’s lifespan. A diamond anniversary. Call it what you will – 10 years can change anyone or anything. And in Charlotte it goes something like this:
At 29 years old: You danced all night at The Forum while drinking double Red Bull and vodkas. You were overjoyed the street vendor remembered your location, you talked to him like an old friend and ate a hot dog with sauerkraut.
Now at 39: You eagerly attend school board forums on busing and buy organic turkey hotdogs at Taj MaTeeter/BallyTeeter for the kids to enjoy with the sitter on date-night. You later contemplate making homemade kimchi after reading the benefits of fermented foods on aging.
At 29: You hoped you didn’t have to date a waiter.
Now at 39: Waiters are hot. Especially that one at Olde Mecklenburg Brewery that looks like Aladdin. Which reminds you to buy “Aladdin” on Amazon hoping it’s still ‘out of the vault.’
At 29: Boats of sushi and sake-bombs at Nikko!
Now at 39: You savor two Baku rolls (annoying spouse by not letting them eat until you get the perfect Instagram pic) and head home so you only have to pay the sitter for two $15 hours.
Killing time at 29: Wander around the Best Buy on a Friday night planning out surround-sound solutions for the bonus room.
Don’t-have-time-for-that-crap-39: Grab an X-box from BJs Club in Ballantyne along with kale, pomegranate juice, and foam pillows. Because your neck. Order HDMIs on Amazon.
At 29: Go to concerts with other adult friends.
Refuse to miss Dave at 39: Sit in “family section” trying to justify this:
29: See two sad parents with their rug-rats trying to keep up with the cool kids at Wooden Robot.
39: Wade through a gaggle of standing conversing singles (the energy) while pulling two small kids, trying to get to the bar to order a hoppy beer with a funny name ’cause it looked delicious on Charlotte Agenda’s Instagram feed.
29: Try to be a cool kid in Charlotte.
39: Know that you are already a cool kid if you live anywhere near Charlotte.
Cover image courtesy of Brandy Cardarelli Photography.