God Damn Old People

I was in Basel for the weekend to visit my grandparents. It was a typical visit except for those five caipirinhas and the hangover that followed the next morning.

As I walked to the train station from my grandparents, I decided to take in the haze before my hour long journey home. I usually would just do it at the train station, but for some reason, decided to sneak into the back garden at the retirement home on the corner of Bahnhoffstrasse. I never would have thought to do it in that garden, but it was cold and foggy and still kind of early for a Sunday morning, so I figured I would be safe.

I took a place on a bench hidden from the main building by a couple of large bushes. I had my headphones in so I never heard the old man creep up behind me as I lit up. You can imagine the fear I felt for getting caught though, even by a man who looked to easily be in his eighties. I racked my brain for an excuse, a lie, I even thought to just get up and walk away, but then he sat down and told me to relax.

I could only sit there, I was speechless and my heart was racing, what could the consequence be? I felt like and idiot, what a typical “me” thing to do. Try to be a bit adventurous only to get caught. Crime was not meant for me.

The man introduced himself as Papa Franz, and asked me to pass him the pipe. He took out an old gold lighter and lit up. I just sat there, wondering if I might have actually lost my mind. I have witnessed some odd things in my twenty four years, but this was crazy. How did my life get to the point where I was hitting the haze with a man who insisted I call him “Papa Franz,” in the back garden of an old folks home? Papa Franz asked if I had any more on me, and I could only nod yes and hand over what I had.

He began to tell me how he had been suffering from sever headaches for the last week but that the doctors had no clue what was wrong with him. He talked about how he had a lot of family and friends who hadn’t wanted him to move into the home but that he had rather be able to decied his own fate, then have the decision be made for him. I understood the logic in that, but continued to just keep quiet.

He talked about the home, how he hated the smell, and how unfriendly the nurses were. He asked if I had grandparents, I said yes, that they were in their eighties and that I loved them very much. He asked their names but I gave him a fake name in case he decided to tell on me.

The old man continued to smoke, but I didn’t notice any difference. He went on to ask if I was scared to die, and it was then that he turned and looked me in the eyes. Never have I seen such a pair of brown eyes, they were clear and had a glittery touch of gold to them. I told him, no, that I wasn’t a friend of surprises and had only really thought to live until thirty. He chuckled heartily and called me a melodramatic liar. He said that any problems or bad feelings that I might have are of my own creation. Hadn’t I gotten exactly what I had wanted, if not more? Yes, I said, he was right.

He got up and patted me on the shoulder and told me to quit the haze, that it wasn’t helping me but only causing me to forget my purpose. This was fine, seeing how Papa Franz had just inhaled the last of my cake. Again he seemed to be right, god damn old people.

I watched as Papa Franz disappeared into the building, into the smell. I shook my head and kind of laughed, what does it all mean? I got up and swung my bags over my shoulder and went to catch my train.

Hibernation is in it’s beginning stages, get me while you can...