Each generation is mostly the same; it’s only in the superficial details, like dress or slang, that they change.  But as I get older, I occasionally glimpse real evidence of society shifting. 

I realized this last month when I was in Florida.  One night my colleague and I wandered into a street lined up and down with raucous bars and drunk teenagers, a certified Spring Break hotspot.  As we were trying to decide which bar to visit, a half naked girl stepped in front of us: “We only have a $5 cover charge and you get a free shot!” Which is a pretty persuasive argument, although the “free shot” was a watery green liquid that tasted like fluoride. I was convinced that the entire bar was a front for the American Dental Association: “We can’t do anything about the fact that kids of today are a bunch of immoral hedonists, but at least we can make sure they don’t get gingivitis.”

We went in and I wondered what nearby factory pumped out all these young, tanned, half-naked girls, as though they were a bunch of star-bellied Sneetches.  I figured Orlando must have patented the technology that enabled the process, because otherwise every city would be doing it.  I bet Pittsburgh is just dying for it. But there’s a downside: I went up to the bar and said “What beer do you have?” The bartender, who was, surprisingly, a young, half-naked girl, bounced her head from side to side and chirped “Bud Dry, Coors, Heineken, Miller!”

I should have known.  There were so many Bud Dry signs lighting up the place that I thought maybe it wasn’t a beverage here but rather a religion--a huge cult of worship where once a year everyone practiced “lent” and made the ultimate sacrifice by drinking a decent beer.

You can’t get a dark irish stout where there’s young half-naked girls, and you can’t get young half-naked girls where there’s dark irish stout. In a Florida spring break bar, the people are young and calorie conscious so the beer is cheap and light.  Ireland is dark, cold, and full of whizzing bullets, and so young half-naked girls tend to go somewhere else.

I didn’t actually mean to digress about beer, but I have and now we’re all stuck with it.  The point is, two girls climbed into a nearby cage and started making out.  A little later my colleague and I went into a smaller bar so we could hear ourselves think and have some whiskey.  Two girls came in, surveyed the room, and started making out.

I need to emphasize that this wasn’t a political act.  Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney wouldn’t have walked up to them and said “Well put, young ladies, well put.  And where do you stand on the environment?” It was really just about announcing themselves.  It was like putting on a short skirt and killer shoes, except with more saliva.

People from older generations tend to look upon these cultural shifts and feel compelled to offer advice and guidance.  It pains me to admit it, but I’m the exact same way.  I can’t be quiet about this.  I, too, want to opine to those who engage in casual girl-on-girl action with no more thought than my generation would give to putting on a coat or lacing up our shoes.  I want to offer insights from the vantage point of my advancing years.  I want to instruct these girls who have taken to impromptu makeout sessions in front of rooms full of strangers.

First: Try to wear the same shade lip gloss.  Because if one is wearing red and the other is wearing pink, you get this orange-y mishmash effect.  Watch out for that.

Second: Keep up the good work.