Hmm a Part 1. You see, how can I write about getting older in just one blog? If I was my favorite age of twenty-five, I think I could pull it off! Oh yes, twenty-five—those were the days.
Does anyone remember the song, “When I’m 64” by the Beatles? (Who wasn’t in love with one of those long, haired hunks from Liverpool.) When we first heard that song in the 60’s, it seemed to be far, far away. We still like to hear it and think about it being far, far away.
Thanks to my one son, I got to see my favorite Beatle, Paul McCartney, perform. He was still as cute as can be at the age of 70. Paul was posted all over the walls of my bedroom. Thank you my sweet son. You made a dream come true. Sigh!
Everyone must have an age that they would like to be again—yes, their favorite age. Oh to be twenty-five just one more time! This was the age of being footloose and fancy free.
I was doing my favorite job – an Executive Secretary, with a great boss in the Communications Department. So. Much. Fun! My friends and I would play volleyball one night a week and then head to the local bar – Dunkles Café. Many ,of my coworkers from my workplace hung out here. Yes, there were a few 3:00 a.m. bedtimes. Would I do it all again, you bet. The person that owned Dunkles must have liked clowns. I remember clown pictures hanging all around, and it being dark. Clowns are creepy, and I would never use them for décor. To each his own!
At this age I even saved for a cruise to Bermuda. Our advertising agency paid to fly all four of us to New York City. Four girls in New York City, the party is on—-and it was. We were picked up by a limousine and whisked off to our hotel. The driver even held up a sign with one of our names on it. Is this living the dream or what?
Later in the evening, we met our advertising people at The Plaza. Yes, the real Plaza, and I remember the restaurant had a Tiki-Bar theme. There were these cute little tiki type salt and pepper shakers, that somehow ended up in my handbag. I wonder how that happened? Really, I have never been a thief. Too much conscience.
The waiter or keeper of the wine or wine steward and one of ad execs had a bit of a riff. We ended up with four different wines in front of us. I just can’t remember if we drank it all! But…we also ordered a tiki punch that was served in a very large bowl and four, very long straws. It was good, trust me.
From The Plaza we walked to another bar, which had a lot of people for a Thursday night. I believe the bar was called Maxims. We aren’t finished yet. Onto the club, “The Blue Angel”, which had a wooden step-up dancefloor and a disco ball. We closed the place up. (This establishment had a terrible fire a few months later. Sad!)
It was three o’clock in the morning when we finally returned to our hotel. Now for the clincher—the hotel didn’t want to let us in because they thought we were ladies of the night. We talked our way in.
Next morning, we visited the ad agency—headaches and all. You know the funny thing about this very memorable, pull from your memory in years later adventure, no one from the agency wanted to take out four girls from a little hick town in PA. The next day they realized one rip roarin time was missed by most.
As I said, twenty five was the best. An adventure such as this will stay with a person way past sixty-four. You’ve got to love it, and I did. It is tucked into my brain, and sometimes I get it out for a chuckle and sigh.
About the cruise. It was fun, but that night in New York beat it by a mile. A night to remember forever!
Blessings from The Blogging Grandma!
P.S. Check out a short blog that just may give you a laugh! It really happened!