Cue the really, really old person flashback.
I was born in the 70s, the age of banana seat bicycles and bell bottoms and Buck Rogers. Just hanging out with my friends was a good time. Getting to fix my hair with a curling iron so it feathered away from my face made me feel like a supermodel, and bell bottoms were the bomb.
It didn’t take much to make me feel like I was living the good life.
We work hard to keep our kids grounded, but we’re visiting someplace that has a teens club. It’s not the concept itself I object to, but this particular teens club rivals any nightclub offered in the city. Sound booths with gaming consoles, an air hockey table, a lit up dance floor with tv screens for videos and karaoke, plus a bar for sodas and snacks. Add in neon and motorcycles and generally cool decor and you’ve got a tween/teen’s dream.
I’m sorry, what?! I mean, you’re already living the high life because your parents let you out from underneath their thumbs…do you really need reverberating bass to feel like you’re partying the night away? Apparently the answer to that question is yes, because that’s what they’ve designed here. To be fair, if I was a kid I’d totally want to spend time in there, too.
But I’m, you know, old and stuff. So I have to pretend to admire it from a distance so I don’t give it the mom cooties from too much gushing.
But dang…talk about a killer lounge area. Sheesh.