Age is in the Eye of the Beholder (1 cent)

Two recent events:

I stand in line for a ticket to the Museum of Natural History in New York. I ask the ticket taker how old you have to be to be a senior and save $5. She says 60. I say "good". She says: "You are not 60". I say that I am, by a couple of years. She says: "what's your secret? Vitamin E or K?" I say I don't take vitamins. She says: "then I bet you drink a lot of water". I say "no, my wife wants me to drink more water, but all I drink is coffee and coke". She asks if my wife is as thin as I am; I say yes. She then talks about how her hair started turning gray at 19 (she is probably in her 50s, with no gray showing), and how fat she is getting (she did not look heavy). She stood up and moved back to show me how fat her hips were (not that fat, as hips go). I said: "you know, you have a long line of people here." She said: "We always do. They can wait. I like talking".

Several days later, I am walking the streets of Washington. I see two people across the street, one with a TV camera, the other looking like she could be an interviewer. I start to cross the street, and a young woman comes up to me, smiles, and says: "Excuse me, I am working for a new TV network, the Retirement Network [something like that], and we are looking for some old men that we can ask a few questions to. Can you help us out?" I should have said: "help you do what? find a few old men?" But I didn't. I smiled and said: "sorry, no time today". She was disappointed and said that they really need to talk to some baby boomers.

At any rate, I was flattered in New York, and aghast at the treatment I received in DC. Even if age is in the eye of the beholder, how is it possible that that is how I am beheld?