A Sydney Trivia Night, After the Southerly

Sydney wakes to water. Ferries shoulder out of Circular Quay with the light already hard and bright on the harbour, the Coathanger throws its long shadow over The Rocks, and somewhere in the inner west a row of terraces is still asleep behind its iron lace. By afternoon the cicadas are deafening and the whole city is waiting for the southerly to blow in and drop the heat by ten degrees in as many minutes.

When it does, people come in off the beaches and out of the office towers and head for the local. A trivia night here is a weeknight habit that never quite admits to being one: sandy thongs under the table, a team name that is a terrible pun, a mate who swears he knows every capital in Europe, and a quizmaster reading the answers over the sound of a footy replay somebody forgot to mute.

The flying foxes cross the sky at dusk and the rooms fill up. What keeps them full is the people at the front of them: the hosts, the pub bands, the comics trying new material on a Wednesday. Go out on a school night. Clap for them. That is how a city keeps its evenings.