At the party of an English college professor. Four of us are seated around the dining room table. One guy is dealing out Blackjack hands.

Dealer:
[Towards me] You have seventeen.
[Towards Tall Girl] You have a pair of queens.
[Towards Girl With Glasses] You have six.
[Towards Guy With Tank Top] You have nineteen.
[Deals to himself] Six showing.
Me:
[Waves hand over cards]
Tall Girl:
Um, what should I do?
Me:
You have a twenty. Face cards are ten each. Since the highest you can get is a twenty-one, you should stand, because you already have a pretty high number.
Tall Girl:
Oh, okay. I stand.
Girl With Glasses:
[Taps table] Mmm, hit me.
Dealer:
[Deals out a face card] Sixteen.
Girl With Glasses:
[Pauses] Mmm, stand.
Tall Girl:
Wait, why did she just stand? Shouldn't she try to get more cards?
Me:
The chances of her getting a card that will push her over twenty-one is pretty high. If you're over twenty-one, then you bust and you automatically lose.
Dealer:
Yea, 'cuz I could have sixteen showin'. 'Cuz you should always assume my hidden card here, see? My hidden card here could be a ten. So the most I could have, is like, sixteen. And so the dealer has to hit on sixteen, but stand on seventeen. So if she has a sixteen, it's safe to assume that I might, like, you know, bust and go over twenty-one.
Tall Girl:
Ohmigawd. That is so complicated. I can't take this, I'm only eighteen.
Guy With Tank Top:
You're how old??
Tall Girl:
Eighteen.
Dealer:
[Slaps table] Holy shit!
Tall Girl:
Why, how old are you?
Guy With Tank Top:
Twenty-one.
Girl With Glasses:
Mmm, I'm twenty-two.
Dealer:
Damn, I'm, like, old.
Me:
Really? How old are you?
Dealer:
I'm, like, twenty-three.
Tall Girl:
Wow, you're old.
Me:
[Eyes fixate on my cards]
Dealer:
Yea, my life is almost half over.
Guy With Tank Top:
That ain't so bad. Twenty-three, you've still got a lot of years ahead of you man.
Girl With Glasses:
Mmm, yea, you're still young.
Tall Girl:
Wait, how about you? [Table turns towards me]
Me:
[Looking everywhere but at them] Huh? Are we still playing?
Dealer:
How old are you man?
Me: Ummm.
[Pause] I'm twenty-eight.
Everyone:
[In unison] HOLY SHIT! Twenty-eight!
Dealer:
Twenty-fuckin-eight! Damn man, you're hella old!
Tall Girl:
Twenty-eight? You're twenty-eight?
Girl With Glasses:
Mmm, you know, I would have guessed you were thirty, tops.
Guy With Tank Top:
I dunno man. Twenty-eight. Well, I guess you could still have a few years ahead of you.
Me:
[Picturing self crawling into a hole to die] Um, okay. [In a whisper] Let's keep playing now…
. . .

When was the last time you felt old?