Here's an Epiphany...

Alex and I are in entirely the wrong demographic. Or is it a psychographic?
What I mean, is we are a cranky middle-aged couple disguised as overgrown college students.

I'm not sure how I feel about this assessment. But the facts speak for themselves:

This past weekend was holiday for Alex and I (and the rest of the nation, I know. But between my retail job and Alex's union job, we don't usually get holidays off). "Let's get away to the countryside," we thought, considering the idea novel and quaint. "'Tis apple picking season and the fall foliage is at its peak in the north!" 

Several hours of pouring over booked hotel reservation site after booked bed and breakfast site and bemoaning our "budget doesn't allow us to stay at a bed and breakfast inn at the last minute so why are we still looking?" exasperations later, we sucked up the price hike and snagged final two vacant nights in all of New England,  at a Best Western in Vermont. 

In the days prior to our departure, I exchanged anticipatory wishes for crispy orange air with classmates departing for the weekend to New Hampshire or northern Massachusetts. 

Strangely, no one else was planning to visit Vermont. I did not find this odd because I did not realize it. I did not realize it because I'm middle aged and about to become senile. 

Arrival in Ludlow, Vermont was uneventful and charming as the postcards claim. It wasn't until we attended the hotel breakfast the following morning around 8:30 did we find ourselves in the company of what appeared to be our parents and their friends. Again, I did not realize that Alex and I stood out like young little sore thumbs until we began to chat with the couple at our table. Turns out we had everything in common. 

Ok, maybe not everything, we only spoke for about ten minutes. But Alex quickly found a friend in the "shake my fist at the crazy world" mindset of the man, and I found myself slipping into a wifey-to-wifey let's-fill-the-time-with-gracious-banter-while-the-men-talk side conversation with the woman. Small talk. Very small. Surprisingly, satisfyingly small. Ever so briefly, I contemplated doing something other middle-aged couples do in movies - making married couple play dates. Say, let's meet at the Cider Festival for a drink!

It's cause we are old. 

All this work trying to differentiate myself from the young'ns in my classes and at my job and I've gone overboard. I treasure the thought of small town escapes in a bed and breakfast, chatting up strangers who also enjoy a slow drive through meandering hills. Who am I? 

If that doesn't say "grouchy old man from the movie 'Up,'" I don't know what does.