As I was walking to UCB Theatre on Tuesday to meet handsome teammate Amos Vernon for our pre-show dinner, I was stopped by an old woman with several shopping bags.

"Excuse me," she said with a folksy Irish accent, "are you walking to the end of the block?"

"Yes I am," I answered.

"Could you carry my bags to the end of the block with me?" she asked, "I live there."

Am I about to be the victim of a swindle? I thought to myself.

Along the way, she told me about her evening. She had gotten tired at the bank, but she had planned to get some groceries and wouldn't go back on her word. She asked me if I lived nearby and I told her I was performing at the theatre around the corner. She was happy for me.

When we reached the corner and her apartment, she started laughing about how old she was. She then imparted some wisdom upon me:

"Growing old isn't a great plan, but it's the best plan."

I bid her good night and she wished me good luck. Though she meant Harold Night, I chuckled at the idea that she was talking about growing old.