I blew it.
I should have gone to Testostorama.
I chose Martini’s instead…Damnit!
I have one lousy friend here in Indy...Josie.
(She’s not lousy; far from it…she’s a hoot. The fact I have “one” friend is lousy!)
Josie, among other things, owns a bike shop with her family.
They had a booth set up at Testostorama and Josie worked it last night.
She wasn’t thrilled about it, but she knew she’d probably see some shit that defies logic…
at least ours.
Boy Howdy!
Just as I was salivating over the first sip of my “Bonefish Martini”, my cell rang.
It was Josie.
Her booth it turns out was right next to the “Midget Wrestling Arena”.
We roared…it just couldn’t get any better than that.
And then it did.
Josie called back to tell me about the “Pre-Wrestling” foreplay going on.
Apparently…strippers in G-Strings Strutting-for-Dollars have nothing on the Mini’s.
Midgets were encouraging Testostorama patrons to staple dollar bills to their anatomy giving new meaning to “The Buck Stops Here”.
I have the pictures as proof…but even this blog has “some” standards!
Josie also got to watch with amusement as an over-served woman climbed fully clothed into a vendor’s Hot Tub.
That alone would have been worth the price of admission.
No one told me they were selling beer there!
Everything I said in my last Musing about Indy (the city) was true.
But what I realize now is this:
Here…Culture is a destination.
You’ve got to want it, seek it out.
But Redneck…that’s a way of life.
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