Palo Alto after dark Palo Alto after dark (November 05, 2003)

The streets are alive after the lights go out

by Nisha Ramachandran

Palo Alto at night can be a lonely place. Darkness descends and silence ensues. Street lights cast a pale of light along desolate Sand Hill Road. The low murmur of crickets chirping echoes through neighborhoods. Stanford Shopping Center is an eerie, empty lot. The business suits and tourists in tennis shoes largely disappear from University Avenue at night. But look in the right place and you'll find the day's energy crackling like a power line. From the Stanford Sleep Clinic to Happy Donuts, the night shift breathes new life into the town during the off-beat hours. For these people who choose to make the wee-hours their prime time, Palo Alto by night is just as exciting as the city by day.

7:40 p.m. to 9 a.m. Stanford Sleep Clinic: Danny Quesada, dressed in pajamas, sits on his bed watching television, ready for a good night's sleep. It's just like any other night -- except for the two dozen or so electrodes pasted to his head. Quesada is under observation for obstructive sleep apnea, a condition that causes sufferers to stop breathing repeatedly during their sleep. Two sleep technologists will monitor his condition throughout by watching the pattern of his brain waves (recorded by the electrodes) and his sleep behavior. "Most people have no idea how they sleep, how much they sleep, how little they sleep," said Michael Bilbeny, an overnight sleep technologist at the clinic. "It's always a constant battle to prove to patients that they sleep this much or wake up this much." Quesada finds the whole experience a little disconcerting. "It's weird. You're totally wired up. I feel like I should be getting a manicure and a facial."
10 p.m. Downtown: Outside Nola's on a Friday night takes on a decidedly different ambience than the daytime hustle-and-bustle created by people on power lunches and running errands. Lit by electric signs and street lights, a crowd of jean-clad smokers puff cigarettes on the cobblestone entrance to the packed bar. Cell phones ring and the murmur of people bar-hopping serves as a backdrop to the T.G.I.F. mood. At Il Fornaio the tone is more subdued, wine glasses clink and neatly dressed diners hold quiet conversations. As business at Gyros Restaurant winds down, up University Avenue the night is just beginning for the crowd at Rudy's. Last call is 2 a.m.
10:30 p.m. Happy Donuts: There are about 15 people in Happy Donuts and most of them look like they need a good night's sleep. Some are slumped over text books, while others blankly stare into the glass case of dozens of donuts as if the mere presence of sugar might give them an extra boost. The only person who looks refreshed is owner Narath Ung, but he has the advantage of sleeping during the day. As the owner of a 24-hour Happy Donuts, Ung works the night shift from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. while his wife works the day shift. This schedule makes it difficult to spend much time together. "The only time I see [my wife] is when she walks in and I walk out," Ung said. It's not exactly the setup he had in mind when he moved to Palo Alto from Oregon three months ago. "I wasn't too crazy about it at first -- the idea that I have to work 24 hours. But I came here and met a few people and I realized that it was more than a donut shop. It was a family place."
11 p.m. Chess at La Dolce Vita: Joe Salazer's intense eyes study the chess board in front of him, as he takes a drag from the smoking cigarette in his left hand and simultaneously moves a chess piece with his right hand. Total elapsed time? Less than 30 seconds. If the thought of chess invokes notions of silence and restraint, just looking at the men gathered outside of La Dolce Vita easily dispels that image. They may be among the best chess players in the world -- the group includes around eight grand masters -- but they are loud, rowdy and like to smoke. Every night, starting about 8 p.m. and ending as late as 3 a.m., these chess aficionados gather outside the cafe to play speed chess, where players have only five minutes to win the game. They must also contend with good-natured ribbing from fellow players while they play. "Joe only plays manly chess," yelled one player while Salazer was making his move. Salazer clarified: "It means I swear when I lose."
12-3 a.m. KZSU and DJ Drew: Shortly after midnight, DJ Drew decided held a phone-in contest. Answer a trivia question and win tickets to a comedy show. A couple of minutes passed but the phones weren't exactly ringing off the hook. In fact, they weren't ringing at all. "After midnight, peoples' brains turn off," he said. For the past three years, DJ Drew has been burning the midnight oil. It's beginning to wear him out. In addition to hosting Pandora's Beat Box, his hop-hop show on KZSU 90.1, DJ Drew (whose real name is Andrew Nielsen) is also a Stanford junior. "The hardest thing is getting up for a 10 o'clock class the next morning because I'm working until 4 in the morning," he said.
4 a.m. Harmony Bakery: Timing is everything to Phil Nasr. It's so important that in the flour-dusted warehouse where he bakes pastries and breads he has two clocks on the wall. Every so often Nasr pauses from kneading dough and watching the ovens to glance at one of the clocks to reassure himself that he's on schedule to meet a 10 a.m. deadline. For a child of culinary linage -- his mother was one of the first seven women admitted to the Chefs' Association -- this arduous process is not simply work, it's an art form. "I feel like its my canvas and I get to paint everyday," he said. Although Nasr said he likes to make everything in his repertoire, he admits to being partial to polenta cakes. "Just the smell and the aroma of the purified butter and of corn and almonds freshly ground before -- it's pretty sensuous."
5:40 a.m. Rinconada Park: A group of bundled-up swimmers stand huddled together at the gate of the Rinconada Pool. It's pitch dark and the air is cool. But this group is ready to hit the chilly water -- so anxious that they want the pool to open 20 minutes early. "Why haven't they opened yet?" asked one swimmer. "They must be late," said another. The lifeguards open the gates to the swimming pool at 6 a.m. sharp for Tuesday and Thursday morning open lane swimming. Steam rises from the pool in the early morning hours, but according to the swimmers there are plenty of reasons to brave the cold. Some cite the convenience of exercising before work; others are just trying to avoid the sun. Still, as Susan Matheson -- who has been swimming at Rinconada for the past 10 years -- admits, "It is a challenge to wake up early in the middle of winter. You think: Am I really getting into an outside pool? Yes I am." Matheson said that during those cold mornings, the thought of her friends waiting at the pool helps get her out of bed. "The social aspect helps to get me here because I don't see these people any other time. If someone isn't there, you notice."