Friday night was unusual. Normally it’s busy in downtown Santa Cruz, with all sorts of things going on, as each member of the cast of the downtown drama takes their places. These streets are filled with artisans, scientists, musicians, dancers, drag queens, hippies, and lost boys. Music can be heard from every corner of the district. Everybody just coexists in this flurry of contrasts and color, much like the colorful tie dye shirts the true locals wear. It is a unique and magical place, especially on Fridays. But not last Friday.
No. The streets were almost empty, but in the still, ocean-misty air combined with the Fred Astaire street lights, downtown took on an entirely different personality. The essence of the energy was still very much alive, yet eerie. The streets took on the feel of a Hollywood set, ready for action. I imagined 1940s automobiles, gangsters, divas and heart break love stories. I put in my head phones, turned up the volume to Siouxsie and the Banshees' “Turn to Stone,” and walked on to my car with a skip in my step.
I love Santa Cruz. It will always hold a special part of my heart.