Parents who say nothing good ever happens after midnight have not been to Isla Vista.

Late night experiences in IV usually include crazed transients and arrogant drunkards, but not this one.

This tale, while devoid of beer-bongs and fistfights, is one of the more unique encounters in my three-year stint in America’s finest dump.

The clock struck midnight in IV.

An evening intoxicated by dubstep music, the classiest of romance, and overall hysteria was reduced to barren, red cup riddled streets.

While my platoon of friends had long since retreated back to home base, I found myself wandering aimlessly, unwilling to conclude a mediocre night.

I staggered down the length of Del Playa a final time no earlier than 2 a.m. As I pivoted to return homeward, an aura of light caught my eye from several blocks away.

Usually the only signs of life you see at this hour are belligerent couples looking for a warm bed, or belligerent singles looking for a warm…single.

As I approached, the light grew, as did my intrigue.

The silhouette of a woman came into focus. It was not long before I realized that she was walking directly toward me and if I didn’t veer away we would run into each other. So naturally, I stayed my course.

Within no time, I was standing face to face with an angelic young lady clutching a brown tattered cardboard box.

The girl was quick to disclose her name and I forgot just as swiftly; I think she said Aphrodite.

Aphrodite was casually dressed in blue jeans and a jet black tank top. A miniature beige straw hat sheltered her brilliant blonde hair, which was the source of the light that caught my attention earlier.

After our introduction, Aphrodite grinned and reached into the box. I could only imagine what would breech those thin cardboard walls.

The sober, attractive, engaging late night wanderer removed a warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and handed it to me.

A chocolate chip cookie!

Aphrodite explained that she was part of a program raising money for a hospital in (foreign country) that she would help build. She charged a dollar per delectable treat.

There is, of course, a chance it was a scam of some sort, but I guess I was far too enamored at this point to care.

I gave the gal the crumpled five in my pocket and plucked another cookie from the box.

We spoke briefly, and then she vanished. Foolishly, I didn’t ask her for a number or where she came from. At least I knew her name.

Who knows what Aphrodite was doing out at that hour with delicious baked goods. Who cares?

I’d like to think she’s in some foreign land with her straw hat, delivering cookies to children. And maybe, just maybe, she built her hospital.