Ah, the good old days of the late 20th century, when our biggest dilemma was whether to crank up the dial on our oversized boom boxes or risk missing the latest episode of "Full House." Back when the only "screen time" we had was trying to get our parents to let us have our own TV in our rooms so we could simultaneously watch “The A-Team” while brushing our hair like we were auditioning for a role in “Beverly Hills, 90210.” How quaint! Now it seems like a dystopian future where humanity is doing their best impression of a bunch of zombies glued to glowing rectangles.
I mean, can we talk about how we survived without the internet? We actually had to interact, like real live human beings! If you wanted gossip, you had to wait for the next school day to hear the latest scoop from the cool kids, rather than scrolling through every excruciating detail of someone’s breakfast burrito on social media. Remember passing notes in class instead of shooting texts? There was something thrilling about strategically folding a piece of paper so that it resembled a top-secret CIA document. The anticipation of whether it would get to your crush or whether it would be confiscated by Ms. Johnson, our evil math teacher, was both exhilarating and terrifying. “What is this?” we imagined her saying. “A secret plan to overthrow the school lunch menu?”
Speaking of school lunches, who could forget the culinary masterpieces that were the pizza sticks with a side of mystery meat? Those cardboard rectangles could rival any food truck fare today—if by "rival" you mean “have an existential crisis together in a dumpster.” And don't get me started on the milk cartons that existed in that purgatory between "edible" and "please, just don't." You know, I’ve often wondered if the lunch ladies were actually secret agents from the ‘80s, using our cafeteria food as a means of psychological experimentation on pre-teen taste buds. “How much blandness can they handle before they revolt?” Mission accomplished, ladies.
And while we’re at it, let’s reminisce about technology. Remember when calling someone meant using a rotary phone that required finger gymnastics worthy of a Cirque du Soleil performance? And if you were lucky enough to have call waiting, it felt like you’d just discovered fire. Now our "calling" is just a series of emoji-filled messages and videos of cats sliding across hardwood floors. A real conversation might as well come with a public service announcement warning that it could cause spontaneous awkwardness and a sudden desire to stare at your shoes.
So here’s to us, Generation X! The last bastion that remembers a life without hashtags and TikTok dances—a generation that learned the delicate art of talking, hiding from our parents, and surviving school lunch without our personal nutritionists (aka moms) hovering over us. Maybe we did it all wrong, but at least we did it—one bad hair day and cassette tape at a time.