I have officially achieved old fogeydom

There was a time when the prospect of a two day music festival would have filled me with anticipation and delight. Music is pretty important to me. I spent large swaths of my summers on the lawn at Merriweather Post Pavilion. Later, as my musical tastes grew a little more obscure, I spent a ridiculous amount of time at the old 9:30 Club and the WUST Hall (which coincidentally, is the new 9:30 Club). I was at the original Lollapalooza. It was hot. It was poorly organized. They wouldn't let anyone bring water in, but they also didn't have enough vendors selling water. At one point they had to start hosing down the crowd with the water from a fire truck. I was in the section of the crowd that got sprayed by Ice T. And unbeknownst to me, my future husband was also wandering around the crowd, but I didn't know him yet. I was a mainstay at the old HFStival, starting back when they had it at Lake Fairfax and when it may have even been free.

But now I find myself unwilling to shell out $175 per person for two tickets to the two day Virgin Fest in Baltimore. There are even a bunch of acts playing that I like, including the reunited Police, which is a very big deal to me as a Police fan. Now maybe - maybe - if Regina Spektor and Amy Winehouse and the Fratellis and Velvet Revolver and the Police were all playing the same day I would have gone for it. Instead, John and I considered the time, expense, effort and likely hassles involved in going to Virgin Fest, and decided to buy tickets to see the Police up in Hershey instead. Two tickets for less than the cost of one Virgin Fest ticket, an hour and a half drive, and a visit to the home of Hershey chocolate, plus a Police set that isn't shortened to fit on the festival bill. It may be my encroaching old age, but I feel pretty good about that decision.

Strike two in my incipient fogey hood - a suspicion of teenagers and vice versa. I went running outside today, and at one point I had to pass a gaggle of teenagers. They had been laughing and talking and yelling out stuff at each other, and then they got all quiet as I went by. I gave them a look, like somehow they were going to start harassing me, and they gave me a look, and then they started laughing when I was past them. When the hell did I get old enough to make teenagers nervous? Sigh.

All the stuff I don't like about running outside:
1) teenagers giving me the eye (whippersnappers are up to no good, I tell you)
2) bugs
3) I can't watch TV
4) hills that I can't control
5) the guy who yelled "whore" out the window at me as he drove by. It's one thing for my friends to call me a whore. It's completely different when strangers do it. And why whore, anyway? I wasn't running naked.

What I liked about running outside
1) I saw a really pretty mallard duck sitting by a pond, and then he went swimming
2) I ran to the grocery store and back. It feels like that much more of an accomplishment somehow, running to a place where I usually drive.
3) I think I ran faster than I do on the treadmill
4) I got to look at all sorts of pretty spring flowers

I actually had a third recent example to illustrate my fogeyhood, but sadly, I've forgotten it. I guess we can add senility to the list as well.