Vannies - 1, Upturned Collars - 0

While I am on the roller coaster ride that will deliver me soon enough to the big "3-0" I'm certainly not feeling old, but definitely am feeling the ever-widening gulf between me and the twenty-somethings set.

Case in point: as we pulled up to the first stoplight of our morning commute, Gap Lady gestures to the young man in the lane next to us and says, "Huh. We were next to this same guy yesterday."

All the vannies turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the whippersnapper. And there he was, in all his glory, stuffing his mouth with what looked to be a breakfast sandwich the size of a brick, a crooked baseball hat perched so high on his head that it looked like a Little House on the Prairie bonnet, and finally, a popped collar - standard issue worn by knobs the world over.

There was a moment of silence as we all took him in.

Then there was laughter. Laughter because he looked like a douchebag. Laughter at the stupidity of youth. Laughter that made us feel better than being some stupid kid getting laughed at by a van full of people who take a van to work. Just, laughter.

The light changed and he sped away from us, surely burning from being the obvious target of a group of middle aged working stiffs.

I would like to believe that we reached him, that we pulled him back from the abyss of fatty breakfast foods and pointless hat accessorizing and that maybe, just maybe, he'd put his goddamned collar down.