Love the Night

Tonight was my first late night of the season. It was dark outside and I was riding my bike home when not one, not two, but four black cats crossed my path. They were beautiful and as I was thinking about them, I started wondering about the nights. People always ask me why I worked the nights for so long. I don't think I've ever given a good answer. I've been on the night shift for the majority of my time working: at a movie theater, at a video store, as a night logger. Seeing the cats reminded me of the beauty of the night.
The day doesn't try to disguise what it is. It's frantic, it's people going here and there, it's traffic, it's heat, it's smog, it's loud, it's work, it's responsibility. The night is so different. It's cool, it's quiet, it's calm, it's sinister, it's secret, it's freedom, it's relaxed, it's jazzy. There were fewer people making their way home and things were so much smoother. The sounds were more subdued. But still, there's an unspoken undercurrent of danger and the sense of the possible and the unexpected. It's a seductive feeling. I even found myself skipping songs on my iPod so I could find something more fitting the mood. I loved watching and listening to the orthodox Jewish congregation making their way to and from synagogue down the streets off of Chandler Blvd. It was a great reminder of why I enjoyed being a creature of the night for so long.
Having lived in New York and California, I've been able to confirm what I've always believed. California is the day and New York is the night. I remember so many late nights, walking the streets of New York City to nowhere and just enjoying the magic. It's different in California, but there's still that charge in the air. It's some electric connection that I didn't realize I missed until I saw that glare in those black cats' eyes.