A thing about growing up

Before you know it, you wake up one Saturday evening in a crowded, cheap general store, clutching a floral-patterned ironing board while waiting in line. You're stressing over the lunch with friends in half an hour and the shirts you've yet to iron for Monday. A woman with two young kids — a boy and a girl — waits in front of you. The kids argue over a bag of candy; the boy snatches it from his sister's hand, claiming victory. The girl starts crying, the tired mom lets out a big sigh as she takes the bag of candies from them.

Up front, a customer is trying to pay with meal tickets that aren't really working. The line grows longer, and the place becomes even more cramped. You start sweating — too much coffee, and you still need to catch the train to make it on time. Finally, you reach the counter, forcing a smile in a pathetic attempt to encourage the young cashier before paying and leaving.

Outside, it's raining. "What a great Saturday," you think to yourself. You light a cigarette and take in the crowded streets, moving cars, and people rushing to their destinations. Time really flies by; it seems like only yesterday you were walking through the university gates. Now here you are, lugging a floral ironing board to the metro station, knowing you'll be late for lunch, again.

Growing up is certainly nothing like what you expected it to be.