Y'know, I don't care about sports at all, but this Pacers "riot" thing is pretty entertaining. I was out downtown with Tony and Angela last night, and we got to watch the melee a few dozen times every place we went.
A bunch of millionaires fighting each other and boorish, loutish sports fans. Perfect.
The whole night out was entertaining regardless. Tony'd never seen a drag show before, so his visit to Talbott St. was an eye-opener for him. Three of the drag queens hit on him, Alana (sp?) especially so. I was proud of him for not flipping out- he's been downright homophobic so much in the past.
Dancing at Talbott, however, didn't work out. The times of the drag shows have been changed, with all three shows taking place on the main floor with perhaps half an hour of music between them; no one dances, as they are waiting for the next show. The final show is over by 1 in the morning, but we didn't feel like waiting that long to get in some daancing.
Went downtown, where I ventured into one of Tony and Dave O's favorite haunts. "Howl at the Moon" or something. I wasn't impressed- it felt like an on-campus bar. Packed with young'uns drinkin' and singin'. I got that old claustrophobic feeling and ended up hiding behind a column, waiting for the crowd to die down a little. It didn't, and we left for someplace else. I think we ended up at another one of those places I've always hated and tried to avoid, Ike & Jonesy's.
That place was packed, but Angela found a riser in the back that was empty, so we had our own little happy dance floor, and I got to hop around to some banal 80s "hits." Most of the guys in this place were gathered around the TVs, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Ron Artest punching men in puffy jackets, so Tony, Dave O., and I were pretty much the only men dancing. We were thusly dragged into the crowd and mauled by women. We did not complain about that turn of events at all; I was pleased as punch, actually, especially when I ended up dancing with a short-haired waify cutie-pie as Prince was played. Her name was Samantha. Tee-hee.
The coda to the night was an early breakfast at Red Eye Cafe; the Bulgarian waitress recognized me from the previous few weekends, actually speaking to us for a bit instead of seating us and running off. Again, we were serenaded by replay after replay of basketball players going wild while guys all around us shouted with glee at every punch.
Of course, I have buyer's remorse this morning- thinking back, realizing how much money I've spent each weekend to go out. It's fun having people to spend time with, things to do, but I can't afford to keep doing this. Blah.
For the Dave (W.) & Stephanie conundrum, I gave a bit of contact information to an employee who has been talking to his family, and have washed my hands of everything. I got one short, snippy IM from Stephanie the day after that made it seem like she had been contacted and was pissed at me for giving out her info. Oh well- any sympathy I might've had for her was dashed a good 2 months ago. Give me a bit of time and distance to realize how much I was being used and mistreated, and my heart's hardened.
...I'm quite thankful that, for all of this drama, I'm only tangentially connected to her. It's definitely more fun to be an observer than a participant.
A bunch of millionaires fighting each other and boorish, loutish sports fans. Perfect.
The whole night out was entertaining regardless. Tony'd never seen a drag show before, so his visit to Talbott St. was an eye-opener for him. Three of the drag queens hit on him, Alana (sp?) especially so. I was proud of him for not flipping out- he's been downright homophobic so much in the past.
Dancing at Talbott, however, didn't work out. The times of the drag shows have been changed, with all three shows taking place on the main floor with perhaps half an hour of music between them; no one dances, as they are waiting for the next show. The final show is over by 1 in the morning, but we didn't feel like waiting that long to get in some daancing.
Went downtown, where I ventured into one of Tony and Dave O's favorite haunts. "Howl at the Moon" or something. I wasn't impressed- it felt like an on-campus bar. Packed with young'uns drinkin' and singin'. I got that old claustrophobic feeling and ended up hiding behind a column, waiting for the crowd to die down a little. It didn't, and we left for someplace else. I think we ended up at another one of those places I've always hated and tried to avoid, Ike & Jonesy's.
That place was packed, but Angela found a riser in the back that was empty, so we had our own little happy dance floor, and I got to hop around to some banal 80s "hits." Most of the guys in this place were gathered around the TVs, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over Ron Artest punching men in puffy jackets, so Tony, Dave O., and I were pretty much the only men dancing. We were thusly dragged into the crowd and mauled by women. We did not complain about that turn of events at all; I was pleased as punch, actually, especially when I ended up dancing with a short-haired waify cutie-pie as Prince was played. Her name was Samantha. Tee-hee.
The coda to the night was an early breakfast at Red Eye Cafe; the Bulgarian waitress recognized me from the previous few weekends, actually speaking to us for a bit instead of seating us and running off. Again, we were serenaded by replay after replay of basketball players going wild while guys all around us shouted with glee at every punch.
Of course, I have buyer's remorse this morning- thinking back, realizing how much money I've spent each weekend to go out. It's fun having people to spend time with, things to do, but I can't afford to keep doing this. Blah.
For the Dave (W.) & Stephanie conundrum, I gave a bit of contact information to an employee who has been talking to his family, and have washed my hands of everything. I got one short, snippy IM from Stephanie the day after that made it seem like she had been contacted and was pissed at me for giving out her info. Oh well- any sympathy I might've had for her was dashed a good 2 months ago. Give me a bit of time and distance to realize how much I was being used and mistreated, and my heart's hardened.
...I'm quite thankful that, for all of this drama, I'm only tangentially connected to her. It's definitely more fun to be an observer than a participant.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
You hate me, don't you?