Strangers Seeking Company in the Night

I couldn't sleep the other night and I stepped out for a late-night walk. It was slightly past 10 pm on a week day night and the Vancouver streets near commercial drive are surprisingly busy with young couples walking, and the hungry seeking out pizza at a discount eatery.
As I walk down commercial drive, I clutch my handbag tightly against me, my mind hearing past stories of purse snatchers and victims of violence. I decide to put my handbag over my shoulder and under my heavy jacket, even though the handbag is big and bulging.
Just a week ago, I was in Merida, which is in the capital city of the state of Yucatan, Mexico. As I watched a Mariachi band and other singers on a stage on a Saturday night, I marvelled at the folksy, warm and cosy family atmosphere at this free music festival. Everyone was relaxed and no one seemed tense and suspicious of other strangers. Here in Merida, far away from my hometown in Vancouver, I felt safe, happy and relaxed.
Switch to my current situation. I walked down commercial drive looking carefully at the people passing by, and even though it was warm at night, I made sure I was walking down a brightly lit street, and purposely chose not to walk down the side streets, which would make the walk more quieter.
I make my way towards a bustling coffee shop where I order a warm milk served by a young woman with thick, fake eyelashes. There are a few couples huddled together on seats talking to each other quietly, intently. I wonder why so many people are out so late at night. Then I remember an early  Earnest Hemingway short story called, A Clean Well Lighted Place. It is a short story I recall from high school days and one that I cannot forget. I muse that it may be a story of loneliness, of a need for people to be among others, to socialize or possibly forget their problems for a few hours.
A coffee shop is an escape, a home away from home. Here, there is no one to yell at you, to tell you that the rent is due, to call you about an unpaid bill. TV is not around, especially  to remind a person of the Gulf crisis, of the sorry state of affairs between the two Koreas.
A young kid who should be in bed by now is playing outside. Other young people are pretending to fight each other. The kid smiles and comes in to take a candy from a woman in the coffee shop who offers him the candy. She likes him.
Here in Vancouver as in Merida, we are the same: all seeking good company in the middle of the night.