It's tucked into the northwest corner of Golden Gate Park. Though I've lived in this stupid city for years, I had no idea what it was called. Google Maps cheerfully provided the name: The North Windmill.
Last night, I saw flashlight beams playing off of it. First thought: aliens. Then I heard somebody laugh—could have been male or female—and a few more quiet laughs in response. The sound of breaking bottle. The flashlight beams whipped into a frenzy, then disappeared.
I'm not on drugs. I'm tired, but not to the point of hallucination. WHAT WAS GOING ON AT THE NORTH WINDMILL?