Indy–Talbott Street

Yesterday, after I dropped The Kid off at the airport, and waited for the plane to take off, I returned to Bloomington, got dressed, picked up Mateo, and then headed up to Indy for an evening of fun and entertainment.

We started at Aesop’s Table where we met Mike for dinner. Mike had driven down from Lansing to join us in an evening at the Metro and Talbott Street, two of Indy’s better known gay bars.

Aesop’s is a very nice Greek restaurant located at 600 Massachusetts Avenue. We were supposed to be five, but Koko’s boyfriend was ill after an experience with a Mexican restaurant in Ellettsville, so the two of them were unable to join us.

It was fantastic seeing Mike after a year and a half—and the conversation covered a lot of interesting ground, both academically and geographically. I felt like such a prat because many of my stories started with the phrase, “when I was in…” followed by words like Madrid, Lisbon, Prague, Budapest, Bratislava, and London.

After dinner (we had a rather tall, cute, and nice waiter who was obviously gay), we walked down the block to the Metro. Metro is a perfect normal gay bar, although we all had to show ID in order to gain entrance. I cannot remember having seen such a request anywhere in Europe—if anything happens in Europe, they pat you down to make sure you don’t have any weapons, something that probably ought to happen in the States as I’m willing to bet that the incidents of violence at nightclubs is probably higher here than in Europe.

After an hour, we headed over to Talbott Street—carpooling, and I managed to find the bar without having looked at a map or asking for directions. A proud moment.

Talbott Street was having a Madonna night—a CD release party of some kind, the specifics I was not sure of. After paying the $8 cover charge we were in and moving on the dance floor. The night was a great deal of fun. There was lots of movement on the dance floor, and although I didn’t recognize anybody, both Mike and Mateo saw people they knew.

Toward the end of the night there was a drag performance on the main stage—featuring dancers performing to the latest works of Madonna.

Which was, unfortunately, a let down for me. The performance measured up poorly to the last real drag show I saw in Budapest. The excitement and energy seemed lacking compared to other big cities.

I wish I could decide why I feel this way: is it because my taste in gay clubbing is becoming more refined and specific, or another manifestation of the fact that Indianapolis is a sucky city. Maybe it’s both.