I skip patrol and hang out with JC.
His wedding is next week and he is freaking out. His fiance Wendy is in full-on wedding overdrive and her family has descended on his house like a murder of ravenous, shrieking crows. Or so he describes it. JC takes sanctuary at my house, regaling me with breathless rants about the wedding photographer and whatnot. He's stressed to the point of mania. My solution is beer, General Tso's chicken, and Halo 2.
At one point we're playing deathmatch and JC is going on about the flowers or some shit and it just hits me. Mitch and Lisa are going to have their baby, like, any day now, and my buddy, my fucking wingman JC is getting married. The wheels and cogs of aging grind slowly, ceaselessly on - except for me.
I don't mean physical aging - I don't know if I'll even age at the same rate or in the same way as everyone else. It's more about evolution. I feel like my friends are evolving beyond me, naturally growing and maturing. I'm going to end up a sort of pathetic old bachelor, the kind of guy that you invite over to your house for Christmas dinner out of pity, the "funny uncle" guy.
I'll be like Fonzie circa 1984, during the Joanie/Chachi era of Happy Days. You know what I'm saying? Not only not cool, but the coolness that you once had has now mutated into something sad, adolescent and vaguely creepy.
I'm sure glad JC came over, I feel great now.