I knew the black skinny tie was a good choice tonight. The whole place is filled with smoke, like when people still used to smoke inside. I experience the entire evening in photographs as the strobe light just manages to commandeer my vision. The neon colors of everyone’s clothing flash like lights from the cityscape disappearing and reappearing between buildings and alleys and intersections. The entire floor is the drum machine, I decide, unable to locate where the music is coming from. What did I do today? Who are all of these party-goers when the sun is still out, not just rising as the evening ends? No one, I suppose. We are Night People.