h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I just got home from a three-day stay in Isla Vista with my friend, Kevin. We stayed with my old friend, Pete, who is slowly but surely finishing up in English Literature at the College of Creative Studies and works at Borders. It is the first week of the Spring quarter at UCSB, and the beautiful young girls are out in force. It is warm and sunny out and everywhere I looked, there were pretty girls in summery little (very little) skirts, tight little tops and flip-flops. I got a minor sunburn while sitting in front of a cafe in dark sunglasses ogling the cute young things I couldn't even have when I lived there, and pretending to play a serious game of dominoes with Pete. We never got to spearfish as planned because Kevin is a total wuss about "cold" water, and refused to go in. He didn't just come out and say he wouldn't go. Instead he refused to get out of bed until long past the time we were supposed to have gone and come back. As a result, the only fishing we got in was at Goleta Pier. I used to catch kelp bass / calico bass and other kinds of fish there all the time when I lived there. Yesterday, however, all we seemed to be able to catch were skates and rays, which aren't nearly as interesting or appetizing, though they can put up a good fight. Later, while Pete was at work, Kevin and I went for a stroll down DP, the main street of parties in IV. Virtually every house on it reminded me of some kind of drunken incident. I pointed out the house where I accidentally broke a guy's rib in a pit at some show on the back patio. Kevin pointed out where the editor of the Daily Nexus used to live and where he'd often been very inebriated. We were surrounded by the same kind of people with whom we had surrounded ourselves then, but this time we were strangers to all of them. Except for Pete, all of my friends were gone from that place, and it just wasn't fun anymore. I found myself in a crowd of drunk 18 year old girls and caught myself dreaming of reading a book somewhere next to a fireplace with an espresso and some sort of accordion music. What has happened to me? I really really want to spend quality time with tipsy teenagers, but continually find myself wanting to be alone with some dusty old book and a coffee. Could it be that I'm (gulp) getting old!? Say it aint so!