We were en route to Panama City Beach, driving the entire 750 miles in one day. So I stopped at a McDonald's restaurant somewhere in Mississippi for a cup of coffee to help battle sleepiness. I prefer their coffee because they provide real cream instead of those nasty powered chemicals some folks call "creamer."

"That'll be 28 cents," said the young lady sliding the cup toward me. "Is that for coffee?" I politely questioned, suspecting that she had pushed a wrong button and charged me too little.

"Well," she sheepishly explained with downcast eyes, "I didn't want to offend you by asking, but you look old enough for a senior discount." Being 50 and never offended by saving money, I henceforth began asking for my senior discount. Might as well cash in on the half-century mark.

"How old do you have to be to get a senior discount here?" I inquired of the rosy-cheeked lad behind the counter at another fast food eatery. "I don't really know. How old are you?" Upon telling him that I was 51, he thoughtfully remarked, "That's plenty old! I'll give it to you." He obviously considered 51 to roughly correspond to the age of fossils.

Discovering that the definition of "senior" isn't exactly a constant among establishments, I adopted a new tactic for requesting discounts. I began asking for the "over-50" discount, hoping that avoiding the word "senior" would save both me and the order taker embarrassment.

I also found out (happily, in this case) that the perception of "senior" varies as well. "And I'd like your over-50 discount, too," I tacked on at the end of one order. The person at the counter turned away from me and yelled. "Tina! How old do you have to be to get a senior discount? Fifty-five? OK!" Then squinting her eyes at me, the inquisition began. "You don't look old enough for a discount." "But I'm 56," I explained with a shrug of the shoulders. "I'll need to see your driver's license." You'd have thought I was negotiating for a Mercedes instead of a sausage biscuit.

Then there was the time that my wife pulled up to the drive-thru window at Taco Bell. Pointing her finger and peering fiercely, the girl at the window pronounced judgment. "YOU... get a senior discount!!" Since Mary hadn't asked for the discount but wanted to make the best of the developing situation, she demurred. "Thank you for giving me the discount. I appreciate it." "Oh, honey! I took one look at you and sez to myself, 'S-h-e-e-e NEEDS one of those!!'"

But despite the occasional bobble, I always request a discount—and admonish those who don't have one.

Aging brims with surprises, some unpleasant. But when flowers bloom along the path, pick 'em.