At Midnight

Friday evening, 8:30 PM. The city lies before me, along with a firm resolve to really grab life by the horns again tonight. On the subway heading downtown, I feel a sense of adventure almost like I’m young again. Back in the day, a night like this wouldn't even get started until midnight. You’d drift from pub to club to bar, debating everything until seven in the morning—from saving the world to why, exactly, there are no square beer bottles. At 9:00 PM, I meet Peter and Martin at a bar. It’s packed and loud, with strategically dimmed lighting. We order drinks, slap each other on the back, and feel like seasoned men right in the thick of the action. Around 11:15 PM, I’m handed my third gin and tonic when my body sends out its first signal. No pain, just a discreet clearing of the throat from my internal organs: "It’s nice here. But do you have any idea how soft your pillow is back home?" I ignore the voice. We clink glasses. To the night! To the wild life! At the stroke of midnight, my biological speed limit kicks in. Not gradually, either—it hits like a sack of flour dropping from the sky. Right in the middle of Martin’s passionate analysis of the merits of induction cooktops, my eyelids suddenly take on the weight of two paving slabs. I nod at him—though no longer out of agreement. My neck has simply given up the ghost. All around me are people who clearly intend to dance until dawn. I, on the other hand, am developing an almost erotic longing for an electric blanket and fennel tea. At 12:45 AM, I initiate a tactical retreat. In the past, that was called cowardice; today, it’s known as proactive resource management. I mumble something about an important appointment with a tradesman at seven the next morning. A story of questionable plausibility for a Friday night, yet Peter and Martin acknowledge it with understanding—almost envious—nods. I’m standing at my front door at 1:40 a.m., and by 2:00 a.m., I’m in bed. The silence is stunningly beautiful. You’ve shown the younger crowd you’ve still got it—been out in the thick of the action—and yet you still have almost a full night’s sleep ahead of you. We used to pull all-nighters. These days, we sleep better.