mere aging mass following orders

As a geezer or geezelle, I find that one is often labelled, categorized, put safely away in the other person's mental filing system before one has even opened one's mouth. I learned from Carlos Castaneda and his Don Juan series that one may as well conform to other people's perceptions in these situations. They are already entranced by their own vision of you. No need to disturb them.

I especially enjoy going through airport security as a geezer. Being hard of hearing (despite hearing aids) also helps. My evident confusion about what I am being told brings motherly feminine assistance.

"Stand in front of the machine, dear! No! No! Turn around! Around this way! That's it! No! Don't hand me that! Keep it! Keep it in your hand! Good! Thank you!"

"No, no, honey! Your shoes! Your shoes! Not your shirt!"

I am a mere aging mass following orders as I hear them and am somehow shepherded through by divine and feminine guidance. Once on the other side, I assume my usual identity as G. Breed, Explorer of the Cosmos.

Little do others know of the wild selves lurking within the aging skin of their elders. But the Geezer knows! (Wild maniacal laughter accompanied by deeply throbbing organ music . . .)