|Photo: Terry Johnston|
I’m becoming one of those people who just doesn’t understand the music, the attire or even the candy that the generation behind me is in to. It never became more apparent than when my 15-year-old niece asked me to do her a favor recently.
“Can you stop at a gas station and pick up some air heads and bug juice for me?” she asked.
“Air heads and bug juice?”
“Air heads are people who have no brains and bug juice, well, that just sounds gross,” I said.
“Uncle Lee!” she said, clearly exasperated with her uncle who grew up loving 1980s heavy metal music and didn’t find it odd to listen to bands called Twisted Sister, Metal Church, Killer Dwarfs and a few other crazily named groups.
“I have no idea what you are asking me to buy,” I said.
“Air heads are candy. Bug juice is a drink.”
I pulled into the local gas station and after much searching, I found the air heads. But the bug juice was much more evasive. Not willing to ask a clerk where to find bug juice, I searched up and down the aisles to no avail. I finally saw a woman walk in who I’m an acquaintance with and I asked her about it. She knew what I was talking about (she must have kids), but she couldn’t find it either, so she asked the clerk – who, like the rest of us, had no idea where to find it.
Thankfully, a teenager walked in and the woman and I both asked her where we might find the bug juice. She pointed to a small cooler across the store that contained bug juice and a bunch of other drinks I’ve never heard of. I picked up a bottle of orange bug juice like my niece requested and brought it, along with the airheads, to the counter to pay for them.
The teenager looked at me when I laid the stuff on the counter and said, “You picked up diet bug juice. Oh well, that’s not a bad thing.”
When did I get so old?