After nine years in the valet game, I lost an old friend. As of yesterday the graveyard valet shift at the hotel was permanently eliminated. Such a beautiful fucking shift, you will always have a special place in my heart.
The only reason I got a full time gig in the hotel valet division was because I was willing to work a 40 hour graveyard week. 11pm - 7am, Sunday to Thursday nights and the occasional Friday or Saturday night shift. I got so much homework done, in fact it was the only time that I EVER read all the required reading in ANY class, EVER.
I'd get there, let the swing shift guy be on his way, park the last few cars at the end of the night, maybe move some cars around so the morning guy wouldn't have to bust his ass too hard to get cars out, and run my reports. Then I'd read for my classes or write a rough draft of whatever paper was due for an hour or so, or until I'd get sleepy. That usually meant it was time to get some fresh air and take inventory of the cars in the garage and make sure all keys were where they were supposed to be. After all that was done, I'd read and read some more. Nothing to you maybe, but to a guy who absolutely refused to read from 1st grade until a couple of semesters before graduating from college - finishing a book in week was an accomplishment.
Ah graveyard shift, you gave me the gift of boredom to the point I had no excuse to not read. Thank you for making time stand still and allowing a slow reader like me finish my reading ahead of schedule. I owe my B.A. in large part to you.
But you also gave me much more. Like the realization that it's all the same day. When you're awake long enough to see the day turn into night and back to day 5 days a week - your concept of time changes, thus YOU change. You also get delirious very often. And that too was a gift. I often found myself (a deep introvert, especially back then) talking shit and participating in class. Almost like being drunk, I'd loosen up and let my soul out - I'd speak and not just write down what was on my mind.
But even after I was able to move to swing and morning shifts, you still had my back. I used to could be off by 11pm and catch a few beers with the homies, or the good part of the house party, or just get to the taqueria before it closed. That was you looking out.
For the morning shifts, you'd ensure that I wouldn't start before 7am. Something I didn't truly cherish until the first time they took you away and I had to be at the garage at 6am - that extra hour of sleep really really does make a difference. But times got rougher and rougher, business got slow. They kept taking you away for longer periods of time - 3 months here, then 4 months the next year, 6 then 7 months in the following years. Now you're gone and I'm up by 5am the latest. 5am, that's when I used to break out the Discman (iPods hadn't come out yet) and we'd listen to a mix-CD and wait for the sun to come up as the seagulls feasted on whatever the garbage trucks dropped on the street.
After the streets came alive with traffic and pedestrians, the morning guy would come in and I'd go home. But I'd always come back to you even if I got put on a different shift. You were the anchor in that garage, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end of the operation. Now from Midnight to 6am there is a void where my soul used to thrive.
Goodbye my sweet graveyard shift. I wish it wasn't so, I wish you could still be here guiding not just me, but the rest of the valet staff through the endless torrent of tourists and business folk.
I will miss you and all the random shit that I got to see because of YOU in the middle of the night.
