New Kids

This morning, get on elevator in lobby with the Contessa (have snuck off for quick coffee and when it comes time to return to own office, feel severe and unrelenting allergy to idea of returning to own office, so quickly accept the Contessa's offer to Come visit the old homestead.) In elevator, we are joined by 4 young girls--first thought is that they are tweens--but then realize that they are 18 year olds. One girl who appears to be the ringleader has on a very short skirt, expensive large purse, lots of makeup, and her hair has been blown out, second girl is a bit mousy, hair untouched by product or hairdryer, third girl had dreads and is wearing track suit, fourth girl looks like ringleader except she is blond and far too thin. Feel that would save everyone some time if I told them that by the end of the week they will all have a completely new set of friends, but naturally, don't say anything. The ringleader turns to the Contessa and says, What dorm do you live in? The Contessa is breezy and says that she lives in the dorm on 13th St. The Are you a graduate student? the girl asks with visible horror. After we get off, the Contessa says that it was fun to be 18 before she was cruelly aged. She said it made her feel excited and sick--intimidated by the ringleader, wishing the ringleader ill, and feeling fatter, poorer, and yet quite a bit smarter. Ask her how that is different than what she feels like now. She replies that now she had a bit of perspective and can see that superficial things don't matter. There is a pause and then she asks me how the hell a girl that age could afford a purse like that. It isn't fair. Tell her sagely that life isn't fair. The Contessa returns that I would be singing a different tune if a group of 18-year-old boys with skateboards and baseball caps had gotten on the elevator instead. Tell her that I have no idea what she means. (Inwardly feel very uneasy, though even to self can't say why.)