Podcaster Meet and Greet
8PM was the time. The “House” at the Union Station was the place. I haven’t really been commenting much on Indianapolis so far, but if you haven’t gone, the rumors are true. It does smell like sweaty ass a good portion of the time. A local told me that apparently the sewage lines overflow and backfill some of the ventilation. Who knows if that is true or if I even understood him completely, but regardless, the streets regularly cough up a noxious smell, sickeningly sweet. I assume that it is sewage treated with chemicals for faster decomposition, but I’m not sure.
Anyway… I mention this because the unpleasant smells of the streets made me even less inclined to go underground. But that is where the House is, in the basement of Union Station. Mix the smell of a bar (usually booze and sweat) with the ever present Indy oder, and you get a cocktail to stir the stomach. Thankfully that particular mix of smells is only present just as you enter, after that bar stench greedily takes over.
The podcaster meet and greet was great. I got to see several of the podcasters that I either didn’t know or had just barely bumped into. Ennie award winning Mark Kinney from All Games Considered was there, as well as folks from at least a dozen other podcasts. As always I had a good time socializing with podcasters, one of the crowds that I feel like I am part of the “people”.
Josh Rensch, as promised, hunted me down and exacted the beer I owed him. Thanks Josh! He, his wife Melissa, Zach, Justin, Trapcast Jenn and I sat in a corner of the bar shooting the bull for a while. It felt really strange to be in a bar, drinking, laughing and talking about gaming. I don’t go to bars often and when I do it’s rarely with gamers, so this was definitely a treat.
After a spell I found myself wandering to the latrine and on the way there heard Holiday by Madonna thumping through the baseboards from upstairs. Curiosity got the best of me and I climbed the stairs to find a masquerade party in full force. Only about a third of the people there were dressed up but there was a huge dance floor with plenty of people rocking out, jumping up and down or, in a few cases, doing some pretty fancy east coast swing. I heartily approved and started dancing through the crowd. A few drinks, some good dance music and at least a few other people wanting to dance is more than enough to get my blood flowing. I danced around the floor a few times, found a couple groups that seemed inviting and shook my funky self with them for a bit.
Endorphins kicked in, starting to sweat and generally feeling bouncy I came back downstairs where the peeps were cool but nobody was moving. Apparently they couldn’t hear the music that was still playing in my head. I met back up with Zach and Justin and it became abundantly clear that the next place TO GO was the White Wolf party.
White Wolf Party
The problem with the White Wolf party… we didn’t have invites. So I did what I do best, I whored myself out for an invite. Sadly my going rate is pretty low. I bought drinks for George, schmoozed with Jenn, and pined my way into several other failed attempts. In the end it was Macklin who was my savior “Sure, you guys can come with me.” Thanks Ryan I really appreciate it. And this is why…
Not long after I was dancing, we found the cage girl (I feel really bad, but I forgot her name, Mourna, Moria, something like that). She was pretty smoking. I don’t have a picture of her alone, so just take a moment to imagine her on her own inside the cage.
Now it gets better, with a little coaxing Trapcast Jenn (picture posted with her permission) joined her:
Now it gets even better, the cage may look small, but it will fit three in a pinch:
Yes, not one of my more flattering pictures. Even with the red eye taken out, I still look like a drunken ass. Worth posting still, for the memory. So once again, thanks Macklin, I owe you one.
Man, I love dancing.