“Are any of the tickets for a person 60 or older?”

The words made their way from the lips of the lady behind the ticket counter into my slightly hard-of-hearing ears.

I hesitated to answer.

Of course, I knew the answer, but I think I was shocked at being asked.

After a few seconds, I said, “Yes, as a matter of fact. Two of us are.”

And voila, my first senior discount transaction was complete.

It happened at a Showcase Cinema in Seekonk, Massachusetts, for the movie Dumb Money (which I highly recommend).

For me, it was the first time being asked publicly about my age — it was a bit trippy – and so, for a few seconds, I was a little foggy on how to respond – because, in that instance, I was forced to reconcile that regardless of how I feel or how I envision myself, in the objective eyes of others, I’m old.

I don’t see a senior discount when I look at myself in the mirror.

I don’t hear senior discount when I pump up the volume of my 90’s gunge playlist and dance around the kitchen to Nirvana and Everclear.

I guess that’s why I hesitated when asked the question.

Now I’m wondering – with my first senior discount under my belt, will I start to feel my age? 

Will I begin to understand the feeling pulsing through my veins when Smells Like Teen Spirit blasts through my headphones is a hoax – a mindfuck?

Is asking about senior discounts just around the corner for me?

God, I hope not.

But one thing is certain: aging is like the Borg; resistance is futile.