I’m a Night Owl Now

Not so very long ago, The Gal considered a late night as one that involved going to a hockey game and grabbing drinks afterward. You know, home by midnight–and that felt REALLY late.

Now that I keep more “varied” hours, I am noticing a few things I’ve missed over the years.

The past seven days in review:

* How bright the lights are when “last call” turns into “Get the hell out, now.”

* How soon last call comes around when you get off work at 1:15 a.m.

* How my city has an even bigger taxi presence than I ever realized. Hundreds and hundreds of them swarm the downtown streets in the wee hours after last call, circling the clubs and bars.

* How interesting it is to watch a gaggle of girls wearing very high heels cling to each other as they try not to stumble on the concrete sidewalks.

* How fascinating it is to watch the clusters of boys hanging around on the street corners, hands in pockets, as they ponder whether or not to say anything to the gaggle of girls heading toward them.

* How strange it is to watch a well-dressed man drop his cell phone, then fall in seemingly slow motion into the street as he tries to retrieve it, sit there for a moment, and struggle back up to continue weaving across the street.

* How curious it is to watch an older woman try valiantly to walk in her cute shoes that probably felt fine at work and are now leather vices, stop, take them off, and walk barefoot on the city sidewalk while her companion doesn’t miss a beat and continues ten paces ahead, completely unaware that she stopped.

* How easy it is to drive home through the city when everyone except the taxis and me are on the road, as long as I watch out for the drunks who didn’t get pulled over at the checkpoints.

* How delicious Mr. Restaurant Gal’s tamale casserole tastes at 2:30 a.m. for dinner (is there a better comfort food?), and again for breakfast, six hours later.