Born Looking Old

The Summer Olympics are over. Michael Phelps is back on dry land and several "sixteen year-old" child gymnasts are proudly displaying their medals in a Beijing fifth grade show-and-tell session.

The Chinese women's gymnastics team was truly spectacular whatever age they claimed during the games. Why should gymnastics have an age limit anyway? The controversy sparked a rare competitive instance where participants were suspected to be too young. Normally such disputes involve a bearded Little Leaguer mowing down frightened batters who, unlike their opponent, did not drive themselves to the ballpark.

I was born looking old. Nearly fifty, I can honestly say that I was asked for age verifying identification only once in my life.

Annually the neighborhood known as "Little Italy" situated in the lower east side of Manhattan stages the San Genarro Festival, a fund raising street carnival which attracts of thousands of people daily. In 1980 I attended the gala with Roni, a young lady who I had just started dating. We strolled along the carnival booths, snacking on Neapolitan delicacies until we reached an odd looking man standing on the corner of Mulberry and Grand Streets. The gentleman was guessing people's weights, ages and birthdays with remarkable accuracy. Surrounded by an enormous crowd, the man amazed the group with his skills, never presenting a single customer with any of the trinkets meant for someone who could stump him. Not one teddy bear or slide-whistle left that booth, at least until I came along.

Chided by my charming companion, I stepped before this would be psychic, paid my dollar and dared him to guess my age. Placing his hand on his chin, the man looked me up and down for a little over a minute, scribbling something on his pad only to cross it out again. The crowd was getting restless. Finally, the man was ready. His clasped hands tossed high into the air, the would-be prophet boldly announced "this gentleman is 29 years old and was born in late April"! The crowd stood silent awaiting my authentification.

Everyone was starring at me including Roni, shocked that she might me dating an "old man." I approached the man and assured him that I was but twenty-one years old and was born in mid-December. Roni looked relieved and a somewhat angry horde vehemently demanded my birth-date credentials. Producing my wallet for the mob to clearly see, I handed my driver's license to the fallen prophet who sought to substantiate my claim. Upon studying my permit briefly, the stunned seer drew close to me and whispered something under his breath. "You need to lay off whatever you've been smoking pal, you look awful," murmured the distraught diviner before begrudgingly handing me my well earned prize. The mob dispersed with a sigh of defeat as we began to walk away with a small teddy bear which I had presented to Roni.

Unwilling to relinquish his title as "Mystic of Mulberry Street" just yet, my former opponent stopped Roni and I offered us a double-or-nothing proposition. He would guess Roni's age within two months of her birth date against a four foot high stuffed replica of "Scooby-Doo" which had probably been sitting in his booth since the early seventies. Bereft of any vanity, the intrepid Roni accepted the challenge and the crowd quickly reassembled.

It took seconds for the leaky clairvoyant to pronounce her twenty-years old and three months. The crowd grew silent as I broad smile lit Roni's face. "Mister, you are way off she announced proudly, I'm only sixteen!" Honestly, I had no idea! Instantly, sweat covered my body like a tropical storm passing over Cuba, as two hundred judging eyes burned through my skull. Roni lifted her Holy Trinity High School student ID from her pocketbook as proof of her tender years, while I quickly pondered my exit strategy. I had managed to go from world weary youth to pervert in 6.4 seconds.

Showered with a hail of catcalls, I wrestled Scooby onto my shoulders and (ironically) made haste for the safety of Chinatown. Roni explained that she didn't think her age would be a problem and that she always liked "older" men. In response I explained that there are specific laws that clearly illuminate the prison sentence range for offenders such as myself, (innocent or not) and that I couldn't get off work from that long a time period.

Roni, Scooby and I ended the evening with a platonic meal of Chinese cuisine. When the check arrived, my complimentary fortune cookie read "Confucius says: The greatest danger could be your stupidity." Great, now he tells me.