The Mask of Adulthood

By Sean McVeigh

How does one define adulthood? I think we can all agree that the official age keeps getting older and older.

Gone are the days of having life thrust upon you the moment you can walk. Sure you can still join the military at 18, but you can’t even legally have a drink until you are 21.

I mean, can you still be on your parents’ health insurance and be an adult? I don’t say that disparagingly, just factually.

Throughout the years, adulthood had to come much earlier than it does now. Maybe it’s all these darn child labor laws (let’s put these kids to work!). Twelve-year-old boys in 1820 looked like they were 40! Thomas Jefferson was 33 when he wrote the Declaration of Independence. How is that possible? Was he an adult at birth?

I had a child a few months ago. Does that automatically qualify me for adulthood? No, I don’t think so. I know plenty of people who have children whom I still wouldn’t consider fully grown up.

Well, I guess the question doesn’t really matter anymore. It’s been decided for me whether I like it or not. I officially became an adult on Monday night. There’s no doubt about it now. How do I know, you ask? I got a CPAP machine.

For those of you not in the know, a CPAP machine — or continuous positive airway pressure machine — is that mask with the long tube you see your classic Joe Schmo wearing while in bed in all those commercials and movies. It helps keep the airway open at night, which, among other things, reduces snoring.

This was probably a long time coming. Just ask my college roommate if snoring was ever an issue. That man is a saint for not smothering me with a pillow in the dead of night. At least when he and my wife first met, they immediately had something in common to bond over. That’s called looking on the bright side.

My wife has kept her cool so far, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she privately popped a bottle of champagne. She probably thinks it won’t stick and doesn’t want to get her hopes up. That’s fair.

I tried everything else imaginable before finally surrendering to the CPAP. There wasn’t a gadget or gizmo I hadn’t tested: Mouthpieces that felt like they were rearranging my teeth, neck straps that I’m convinced stop snoring by suffocation, and nose fans — yes, you read that right — that advertised themselves (falsely, as it turns out) as mini CPAPs.

Although some had minor positive effects, none lasted more than a week. So I understand my wife’s hesitation to celebrate, but this one feels different. It feels legit.

I mean, it feels so legit that I’m starting to understand why Darth Vader wore one 24/7. Let’s just say my Bane impression — pretty darn good to begin with — has been taken to a whole new level.

Sure, it’s going to take some getting used to, but the important thing is that I took the leap. I joined the club of all those other average Joe adults. I guess now I have to also buy a pair of white New Balance sneakers, increase the text size on my phone, and figure out the best early bird specials on the peninsula.

I am officially an adult.