I went to San Francisco for a party tonight. The drive was really long, but it was worth it. I can’t help being excited. After all, I’m in one of those cities where everything is so modern, yet vintage. On one side I see City Hall, the other I see a new apartment complex. Old walls and backs of trucks are covered in graffiti. There are signs for Chase Bank and Fisherman’s Wharf plastered all over Van Ness Avenue. A bus drives by, headed for Lombard Street. I see an light-up AMC Theaters sign; the ‘C’ and the ‘a’ are both broken.

The first thing I notice about a certain building we pass by is that there is a bright purple light shining out a window. Some lights are off, some are on, but there is only one purple light. What is it doing? Why is it there? And why purple? There are so many better colors to choose from. Another building has huge windows, and one is open. My sister clearly notices a lady bustling around the room, which looks like a home office. She’s probably getting ready for bed, my sister says. I check my phone. It’s 7:18. I doubt she’s going to bed, I say. I see that her apartment is right above a Subway. That’s cool, because she can get a sub whenever she wants.

My dad has to parallel park because the garages are closed. All the cars have their wheels turned to keep them from sliding off the hilly roads. I get out of the car. It smells like cigarettes and alcohol. A gaggle of drunk girls pass by, screaming and slurring their words. It’s windy, and I regret not bringing a thicker jacket. We walk towards the apartments where the party is located. It’s one of those fancy places where each apartment has two levels and costs a lot of money.

After the party, we drive home. I look out the window. There’s a lot of fog. I check the time, 10:21. Half of the city is already asleep. The other half is partying. I’m officially tired, so I fall asleep to the sound of 80s music and car horns. Slowly, one by one, the lights go out, and we are on a deserted road. Goodbye, crazy cities. Hello, home sweet home.