About two years ago, I wrote about the Facebook phenomenon that was (finally) hitting adults. My essay, “Thirty-Seven-Year-Old on Facebook,” discussed my personal experience—while laid up with a broken leg—with Facebook. It’s an amusing piece, so I’ve been told. I wrote it when I was enjoying Facebook.

If I were to walk into a bar around here, I would likely be the Most Famous Person in the place.

That’s not saying too much, of course, and since I don’t drink, I haven’t tested it. And also, I suspect that Harley ownership, tooth loss and/or neck tattoos may be required in order to gain entry into any bar in my town, so they wouldn’t let me in.