Milestones of advancing age
It had to happen sometime.

We boarded an underground train toward the end of the day, a pleasant time spent in Brussels.

I made brief eye-contact with a young woman (maybe an Ethiopian? guessing from her general features and build of the face) who was sitting in a seat near the door of the train. I continued a scan of the train interior: alas, no seats, I thought. I was a little bit tired at the end of the day's strolls, but I figured I wouldn't mind, as the train itself wasn't crowded otherwise, and Mr Sweetie and I could stand near one another, enjoying the general glow of a good day out.

The young woman leaned forward, waved her hand at me, and then started to get up out of her seat.

Er, ooops! I smiled, waved madly, and tried to indicate she was to keep her own seat. We didn't really share a common language (dang, the time I don't have!) but she did understand that I was happy to remain on my feet.

I'm sort of used to older gentlemen giving up a seat, in the seas of people who generally don't give up a seat for anyone. (I'll be guilty of that as much as anyone, especially if I get a furry eye-ball from someone who thinks they are entitled to my seat; but that's a different issue, really, power-plays versus garden-variety politeness and consideration.) But this is the first time woman who was pretty much in her prime tried to stand up an offer me her seat.

Okay, I thought. Probably because, when I wear my hair up (which I do a lot, to protect the ends), the grey at the temples is particularly prominent - I call it my "racing stripe" because it shows so well against what is still more dark brown than grey... although,... well, there is a lot of grey these days, and some people read that more immediately as "aged" than other cues like general stance, ease (or not) of movement, etc.

Still, I can hope folks are that polite when I really do need that seat - in what I hope to be still another 40-50 years down the road, eh?