Octogenarians Have Swagger, Too

Today wasn’t the best of days, but I felt a bit better when I met this guy.

It was some old man, sporting a cassette player from the 90s or maybe the 80s (BC), who seemed utterly convinced that he was a gangsta rapper. What seemed to be a hobo-turned-grammy-award-winner-turned-hobo-again, the man shuffled left and right, and his hands couldn’t stop saying “yo, yo, yo, bro”.  At first, I felt sorry for the guy. But then something weird happened. I started dancing with him. Alone, too. I mean, how many chances do I get to get my swag on with the Asfurieh’s finest?

So there we were,  acting out what seemed to be a hybrid of Michael Jackson and John Cena, when some high-school students passed us by.

They started laughing at us.

But then they joined us.

We later discovered that this one of those hidden camera things, but that’s not the point. What is the point? Well, as we walked passed the camera, sending shootouts to our mamas, I realized it was this.

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