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Fiction » Essay » I Love the Night Life font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: MessiahDave
Fiction Rated: T - English - Humor - Reviews: 2 - Published: 08-03-05 - Updated: 08-03-05 - id:1977868

Walking through the streets of the city at midnight on a Tuesday/Wednsday evening/morning, there are several things you may notice or realize. You may notice that no matter how deeply urban you go, just about everything worth going to will be closed except for a few bars and street vendors. You may notice that the parties and people are sparse, but present, and that there's a fairly large section of city that you can roam all you want in without ever escaping the sound and music of one shindig or another. But the most jarring, frightening, and liberating realization you'll likely make is this:
At midnight on a weekday in the heart of the city, every person you encounter or pass by is just as fucked up as you are.
Think about it: You're here, out and about, at an hour most sane people would at least be winding down during (to those who read this who state that mdinight is no big deal, I point out that they are A: Teenagers and B: people who deliberately read my thoughts, and that therefore the sanity clause is so far out the window it's threatening to crash through the window right across the room from it), on a Tuesday/Wednsday evening/morning, and you're deliberately associating with other people who are doing the same.
And as you pass these similarly crazed individuals, you start to wonder what on earth could possibly bring them out here, at this time of night at this point in the week. You know that you're just out for a bit of fun, and that you still wouldn't trust you given the level of general delinquency and madness in your life up to this point. However, you DON'T know what everyone else out there is up to, or what events brought them to this point in their life. For instance, right down the street, there's a man with a Gyros Truck. Think about that for a moment. This is a man who drives around the city like the Ice Cream Man, but instead sells you lamb meat in pita bread. And he's doing so at midnite. And he seems oddly anxious about something. And he appears to be about middle-aged.
Now, how on earth could events in your life possibly conspire to this point? Did this man come from a long line of Gyros-Truckers, dating as far back as the times of the gods of Olympus, when Helios would drive his massive Gyros Cart through the sky itself, its brilliance so dazzling that it actually lit our entire planet? Or perhaps his father never approved of his lifelong dream to become a Gyros Salesman, and he was beaten often as a child whenever he was caught making mud-Gyros out of leaves and dirt for neighbourhood children and selling them out of the back of his wagon for bottlecaps and bellybutton lint.
And what of the strange young man bicycling down the street, wearing all black? He seems like a pale sort, dark hair, a mild five O'clock shadow, and he seems rather thin. Like he's never really been properly fed or medicated. What on earth could he be doing out this late? On a bicycle? The fact that he couldn't just go for a walk seems to speak volumes. If you want some air, want to clear your head, you stroll. But if you ride a bike, that means you want to get away. You want to feel the wind in your hair and you want to be completely and utterly free. What neurosis could be plaguing this man so that he feels this need? Depression? Does he feel ashamed of what he views to be a hideous appearance, so he goes out and experiences freedom at the one time of day where few will see him, even fewer will see him clearly, and amongst those that do he will be only the mildest of oddities?
Wondering all of this, thinking about what could possibly be bothering these people, and contemplating the fact that deep down they're closer to your wavelength of sanity than most you encounter when the sun is up has an interesting effect. It's as if you have a rare moment of complete, and utter belonging and unity. As if any sense you may have once had of being a misfit, even if it's only been there for the past several minutes that you've spent out in the dark thinking "Wow, it's odd that I'm out this late", has just been eliminated. In a strange and beautiful way, any small ammount of self-doubt and paranoia you may have can finally blend together in a rare and unique way that makes you feel somehow normal and special and amazing all at once.
Sometimes, it's easy to see the appeal of the night.



© Copyright 2005 MessiahDave (FictionPress ID:72897).


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