Down Downtown...

No, it wasn't Manhattan, but the trip to Houston Downtown was certainly special. At first sight, it was ironical why they were called "Downtowns"; after all they had the largest buildings in the city.

Through the Perspex glass of the car, my vision being refreshed by the passing headlights of vehicles on the interstate highway, I saw the skyline bejeweled by man-made wonders, although they may have been unintended to be so wondrous. I pondered if the poor accountant who left the lights on in his 46th floor office had any idea that he had just painted a faint brushstroke in the huge masterpiece of the downtown skyline.

It was funny that such beauty arose out of sheer randomness. Each building erected in its own accord, the millions of drafts rejected in board meetings, the limitlessness of technology, and the unchoreographed array of lights. I almost see the sleight of hand of nature in this magnificent skyscape. I respect each building as a structural wonder in itself. But did the architect who drafted the design, keep in mind as to how he would be filling the skyline as seen from 2 miles away.

As the glittering skyscape approached closer, blocks of concrete gained contrast over the dark sky, as if they were gradually painted with the colors that the builders intended. We took a walk between the shoulders of giants, the car rolled down Smith Street. I mused; Downtown must have been named at night. It was as though this part of the city was “SHUTDOWN” by some mysterious switch. The streets were so empty that, it felt almost criminal to drive through them at night. It was ironical that the glittering skyscape which symbolized, the busy commercial and industrious face of the city, the skyscrapers that personified the giants and tycoons of the industries, stood so lifeless and empty. The energy corridor, with all the powerful “power” companies stood lifeless and enervated. The atmosphere was like inside a monument and I wonder for whom. Maybe for those who lived for the rise of technology and died for it.

As we drove away from the Downtown, the ashen painted monoliths, merged with the murky skies and I saw the illusion yet again, the illusion that the city was still awake. But I liked the mirage better, for it gave me a sense of happiness that the mill was still running, an assurance that work was going on. Work that done today, makes what we will be a decade later. The symbol of productivity stood tall.