I got that antsy feeling at 1 am so I went for a stroll down Pier 39. I love going to busy places in the middle of the night after everyone else has gone away. Nothing’s open, nothing’s crowded and nearly no one’s there.
I peeked into the restaurant with a VW Microbus embedded in its side and the abandoned kitchen floor was strewn with pounds of fries, lettuce and chips. The mini-donut place still smelled delicious. The carousel was draped in clear plastic. The only other people were Mexican kitchen workers closing shop and dragging bags of trash out. It was surprisingly warm. I heard things I’ve never head there, like the creaking of the boats and the flapping of a flag. It reminded me of a song* from long ago:
They rock at their moorings all nestled in dreams,
Away from the roll of the sea.
It’s a bad habit, these night time wanderings — I know. Especially with all the nutty homeless people. But I get away with it by being the scariest. I was wearing my hat. I probably terrified those poor Mexicans.
* Written/composed by Allister MacGillivray