THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT

 I have few friends my age (or older) that I enjoy spending time with. The ones I do have I’ve known all my life. They are like family. But on the hole, I find ma- ma- my generation incredibly boring. If they are sick, I feel sorry for them and shamefully avoid their company. If they are healthy, most are retired and seem to be at the end of their warranty. I avoid them also. They have no drive, no fire in the belly (or loins). If they were successful in their long lives, they’ve retired to golf and play with the snotty-nose grandkids. Boooooorring. If they were miserable failures (like me), they gave up on their dreams years ago and settled. Shameful.

Lucky for me I have a great group of friends in their 50’s, 40’s and even some 30’s. I’m not sure, but a couple may even be in their 20’s. Let’s see some ID. These “kids” are MY crowd, support unit and community. Case in point: Saturday night world famous hottie Lani was DJing at The Old Foundation in Jeffersonville. I’d been there only once before, for Hollie Witchey’s wedding reception, so didn’t know what to expect. Shewho was home with a bad back and I was given a very long lease. She’s the best.

 

As per usual the guides for our safari were the Buddes- Sara (no "h") and Brett. These two are such party beasts that they have their own disco bus (a re-fitted short bus from RIDE the D). A visiting nephew and ex-IDF soldier was our driver. Check his papers. Solid. Police cruisers, drones, and check points are never a problem for this guy. The bus was SRO. Hot girls, a bunch of random cool cats, and another British/Israeli citizen who looked so hunky I could possibly turn gay. Then out came the…….

 

When we popped over the parking lot curb and screeched to a halt in the packed parking lot the ride alone was worth the price of admission. Boom-chicka-boom-chicka-boom throbbed out of the disco light bus. We poured in the bar; a bunch of half-crazed lunatics. The proprietors may not have needed our attendance, but it sure didn’t hurt to have our squiggly energy pumping up the vibe and rattling the floorboards. The night was off! I don’t remember much. I know I danced…..A LOT!

 

I got off the bus at my front door around 4:00 am, still in the glow. This is the way we party in the mountains. Good luck getting this experience in New York City or Tel Aviv, let alone anywhere else in the world. This kind of groove is exclusive to our Catskill congregation. Even the Satanists don’t have their own bus! So, as I wait for the weather to turn cold, or something to materialize in the Rosenwasser/Soudani case, health permitting I’m taking advantage of every opportunity to party down with the kids. My grandfather did the same thing. He had no use for his old man’s or his own generation after the divorce. He hung with my old man, my mom and most of their friends. Lacking my own kids, I’m just following his example. That’s me waving at the bus stop.