revafisheye

Labor-free weekend

Labor Day weekend, I flew out to northwestern Indiana to visit my darling friend and old roommate, Scott. After an lengthier-than-I-anticipated train/monorail commute to Newark airport, and a shoeless sprint through the American Airlines terminal, I settled into seat 9E, got out my knitting, put Spoon into my cd player and relaxed. The flight into O'Hare was quite pleasant, until the very end.


Knitting in seat 9E

Just as the "please turn off all electronic devices" announcement was made, the poor 6-year-old with "sinus issues" in front of me started screaming bloody murder, and continued to do so as we descended, landed, taxied until our gate was ready, arrived at the gate, waited for the jetway to attach to the plane and disembarked.

Then I rode a bus for two hours from O'Hare airport in Chicago to Michigan City, IN, where Scott picked me up for the hour drive to Nappannee. The trip was long and tiring, but worth it to be with one of my bestest friends under visible stars.

The next morning, Scott arose early to teach his Body Pump class at the gym. I lazed in the yard, drank tea, and read The New Yorker.


My toes like grass


Scott's house, across from the Nappannee Public Library

When Scott returned from the gym, he insisted on going for a 12 mile run, so I tooled around Nappannee on his bicycle for a couple of hours. I rode over to the Round Barn Theater at Amish Acres,



where Scott directs artistically, and where I once played Sister Margaretta ("Maria makes me laugh! Ha-ha-ha-ha!) in The Sound of Music.


On my ride through town and country, I passed two Amish men on bikes, and one horse and buggy carting a whole Amish family. The Amish do not believe in photography, so, out of respect, I refrained from snapping pictures in their direction. The urge was harder to resist when, later that evening, Scott and I saw a gaggle of Amish girls (that's the scientific term) at the Hacienda Mexican Restaurant in Goshen, enjoying burritos and electric lighting.

All afternoon and into the evening, Scott and I shopped, ate, and sang Pat Benatar at the top of our lungs as we drove along the corn-lined country roads - the usual. When darkness finally descended, we hitched a ride with Christy to the only gay bar (I'm pretty sure) in Michiana.

Seedy, smoky and packed, Truman's had everything: cheap beer;


This round of drinks cost $5.50.

pool, darts AND a dance floor;


(no parking)

and really bad drag.



And if the drag show gets boring, you can also watch West Wing.


(from noon) Christy, me and Scott rubbernecking

After the drag-spectacle, I mean -spectactular, we trapsed upstairs for beer and gawking. Ryan, Scott's apartment-mate and adorable fellow, met us there, but abandonded us quickly for the dance floor. All-talk-no-action Troy joined us eventually, but ditched us right before the shots came out. I drank his.


(from noon) Scott, Ryan, me, Troy and Christy: Scott just has to be the center of attention.

By the end of the evening, Scott had gotten the number of a guy who should never dance, and I nearly got my Hag Card revoked for interrupting Scott while he made eye contact with a guy across the room. The ugly lights came up just in time.

posted by revafisheye @ 11:59 PM