Everyone’s turning 40. Fine, not everyone, just all my friends. That is why my buddies and I decided to get together over the winter break. It’s odd because we were just turning 21 yesterday and testing our limits in so many ways. I can still smell the ocean breeze wafting through the Wrightsville beach bars and taste the sudsy amber flavor of an ice cold draft Yuengling. Today, my knees creak just as much as the bed does when I get up in the morning.
We are back in Las Vegas and the same crew that couldn’t lose at the craps table has assembled to try our luck once again. At least I was told we couldn’t lose because all I remember is the sweet, sweet taste of the Taco Bell Cantina at sunrise. I did have a lot more money in my pocket at the beginning of the night, but that could be explained in several ways. “Bobby bottle service!” we would yell at each other as the bass boomed and the lights flashed in the club. It was a phrenetic night followed by lounging by the empty pool with bursts of our laughter echoing throughout. Is that what we are here for? To chase some ethereal bygone age? I wonder while sipping a beverage in the familiar hot tub.
The Ghosts of Vegas: Reflections on Turning 40
Once again laughing uncontrollably, but this time with an excellent steak at a place we’ve never visited before. The next day I’m throwing axes, dominating at an arcade game and skiing a mountain an hour outside of Vegas. All new experiences. As I sit at the ski lodge with my drink of choice in hand, it really sinks in. We are not haunted by our past youthful experiences. They are just reference points for our next adventure. Easily resurrected when we are reunited. We are definitely getting older and my slow recovery from a couple of skiing missteps prove that. Those falls and a few epic saves will be something to laugh about on the next trip.
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