The city is alive. The bright lights are captivating, blinding. Big Rolling Stone lips on a billboard make you feel so young. Then, at the end of the night, as you anti-climactically drive home, the magic is gone. The Rolling Stone lips depress you because they are so old.
Cranky drivers yell at drunken night clubbers stumbling across the street.
The lights hurt your eyes. The drive to Westwood takes forever. What a night on the town. N.C. The air was fresh, and the cheaper cost of living allowed moderate-income families to build custom homes. I couldn't get enough of the big backyards and the huge gaps between neighboring houses.