The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

15 January 2006

Welcome to Euphoria

One of the weirder manifestations of the last couple of years — in fact, I date its beginning precisely to the move out of the exurbs and into the city, which would be November 2003 — has been the curious but undeniable sense of "All's right with the world," a concept otherwise utterly foreign to me, that seems to accompany me during the drive home from some cultural or sporting event if at least one of the following two conditions is met:

  • The event attended was downtown or close to it;
  • The timing of the event was such that I was driving home at night.

I haven't quite figured out the dynamics. However, that strange feeling clearly does not set in when I'm coming back, say, from a movie matinee in the suburbs. I did not feel it returning from Brokeback Mountain last Sunday; I definitely felt it last night on the way back from When Do We Eat? And I don't think the subject matter of either film made any difference.

My current thinking, subject to change, is that the introduction of either one of the above variables is creating an enhanced sense of belonging — to the city, to the community, to something greater than just myself. This makes a certain amount of sense on the downtown-vs.-suburbia question, not so much on the time of day. I'm wondering if maybe the nighttime scenario is based on some subconscious assumption that, were it not for the empty seat next to me in the car, I might conceivably have had a date.

Whatever the explanation, I was downright gleeful weaving my way through Mesta Park on the way back home last night, singing along with the stereo (to some of these tunes) and generally acting like I was having a blast. Which, for nine bucks ($7 at the box office, $2 to park), wasn't a bad deal at all.

Posted at 10:25 AM to General Disinterest