What the crones are for

Nora turned 30 last week. Now that doesn't seem a big deal when one is, say, 50, but from the twenty-something side of things, it is a cause for a pause, if not outright for gloominess. One is expected to be a mature responsible individual and there's nothing glorious and exciting sounding in that. She reserved a whole restaurant, where she had just about 30 friends. Some of us were a high school gang reuniting after years.
I was de-seated from the goody-goody first row of seats in high school in my senior year for disturbing. To the back I went, where the troublemakers sat. Nora was my immediate neighbor. We barely spoke the first two weeks. I was too good for her, she was too bad for me. Over time I found out that this scoundrel does have a remarkable sense of humor, as does Diana and Marina behind us. They taught me how to smoke, how to network white lies and back each other in order to get out into town behind parents' back, how to generate documentation in order to skip school without punishment. I had my first C on the grade report that semester, and 3 or 4 C's the second semester. It was naturally the best year ever.

And now Nora has her own apartment and her own dentist's office. She comes home exhausted after ten hour days at work and rarely ever goes out. We chatter on the phone, grumbling about significant others or a lack thereof. Diana is a representative for a large construction company and is saving up money for a house that she'll buy with her man. They go everywhere together. Without Richard, there is no Diana.
Sandra had her second child on 1st of January, she now has a full house, what with four of them squeezed in a one bedroom apartment.
Only Mira and I remain afloat, shooting out into various parts of the globe without much planning, doing this and that. But she, too, is planning a traitorous escape from spinsterhood and afloatism. Mira is looking to settle down with her old time boyfriend, to whom I introduced her. Silly me. Luckily she tasted the freedom this lifestyle brings and she won't last long in one place. At least she's a fellow globetrotter.

But when Nora turned 30 last week, we all had a grand ole time. Drinks were for free. Many a gin met many a tonic and there was dancing on chairs and tables. Houses, jobs, significant others, all was forgotten and we were the high school troublemakers again. We decided to open a bar in Bratislava when we retire, the Olde Crone Bar, which we shall bartend in person. Among five or six of us, that should be no problem, even if we'll be tied down to wheelchairs. I wish to retire already, don't want to wait another 40 years to be a silly old lady that can get away with just about anything.