thursday night lights
After 8 pm, San Antonio goes to sleep. Most traces of city life shut down enough to question the idea of being the ninth largest city in the country. It can be a downer, especially when you recall the buzz of Austin kids eating breakfast at 11pm. I'm sure the roads are teeming with cars outside the loop, but I actually enjoy the vacuum of central San Antonio after dark. It's like Vanilla Sky without Tom Cruise around to crowd things. That's when I go jogging.
It's during such times that I grew attached to the city last year. You're one of the few about and suddenly you feel like you have stake in a city. Where Austin is limitless, San Antonio is finite. Accessible, calm, and finite. In all the things one can do, the greatest thing to do is nothing. And in the dark, you see the scattered others, the other content San Antonians enjoying our quiet. Open avenues become our hang out and barely an exchange is exchanged. We understand each other and tonight have the mutual goal of nothing. And when that radio booth somewhere is playing that song somehow, any attempts to find its source will leave you empty handed, tired, and ready for bed.
