What happened to 26?

I turned 27 today. I turned 27 and had a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese's.

I don't see anything wrong with that at all. In fact, I had a great time. And I may be overstepping my bounds, but I'm fairly certain everyone had a pretty good time. I mean, what's not fun about pizza and skee ball?

It didn't start out that great though. I mean, mom took me out for breakfast, which was nice. And we went to see The Number 23 this afternoon, which was also nice. But coming out of the theater, my car wouldn't start. No power at all. This is very bad, especially since I just bought a battery for the thing last summer. So, I'm thinking, "Happy birthday to me..." in a sarcastic kind of way. Turns out it wasn't a big deal. We got it towed, got it fixed, and everything was ship shape.

Why is it that whenever you have a birthday, there are inevitably people who ask, "Do you feel any older?" My answer is always no. I mean, I feel pretty much the same as I did yesterday. Do I feel older than, say, 4 or 5? Absolutely. Am I grasping for that level of immaturity by partying with a 6 foot rat? I guess that's possible. I didn't take the time to examine the psychological ramifications of turing 27 at a restaurant where a kid can be a kid.

I did like the reaction that a friend had to hearing I was having a birthday at Chuck E. Cheese. "That is classic Aaron Peck." I don't mind that at all. And she meant it in a good way. The way I see it, why not make each birthday a little memorable? I hear a lot of people say of their birthday, "it's just another day." Why should it be that way? Do it up right folks! Do something fun, something that you'll enjoy doing. Involve your friends. This year was Chuck E. Cheese, but it doesn't have to be a restaurant to be special. Last year I was with a few friends in Richmond, hanging out in an apartment eating tacos and dang quesadillas. Next year, I'm thinking roller skating. If I decide, when the time comes, that my knees can handle it.