Louisville with the incomparable Neill and Bachelorettes

Last week I took a trip to Louisville to visit one of my dearest friends, Neill. Neill and I became friends in New York. We went to the same theatre school, the American Musical and Dramatic Academy, but didn't become friends until one summer when we both worked at the New York Renaissance Fair. It was then that he pitched an idea for a staging of Christopher Marlowe's Doctor Faustus, and that was the start of a string of many plays we worked on together through Haberdasher Theatre, the company I was once the managing director for.

"Reminisced fondly"

I left for Louisville directly after the Business English class I teach Friday nights, and after I arrived, we spent the rest of the night catching up. We reminisced fondly over our days in New York and how sometimes we feel tempted to return but then remember that what we miss isn't there anymore. Our time there was this perfect combination of factors that made that decade great: the amazing support network of friends, the luck Haberdasher had in getting by on such a small budget, being young and in a big city after living your life in the midwest, that feeling of discovery and adventure, getting into trouble and barely getting out of it by those certain miracles that are only afforded to the young. "It was this moment in time," he told me. And what a glorious moment it was for all of us.

The next day we tried to do a few things around town. We had breakfast and went to the Science Center. "It smells like a daycare in here," I said as we were about to pay our entrance fee, and as we went through the museum, it turned out to be basically that: a daycare. Everything was geared toward small children, and while that's not too much a problem in itself—I can easily revert back to the mentality of a six year old at the drop of a hat—I would feel like an asshole when an actual six year old is there waiting. "Oh, you wanna play with these building blocks? Fuck you, toddler, I'm Indominus Rex and I rule these lands! RAWRRRRRRRRRRRR!" Fortunately, the guys at the ticket desk were gracious enough to refund our ticket fee, and we shuffled along to take in other sights and sounds around the city.

"The giant bubble maker is MINE!"

After a short gaming break, we went out into the night. We started at a pretty swanky bar called Proof with an art exhibit below it and some really good cocktails. Then we hit up a few gay bars, including Chill Bar and The Connection, where a drag queen pulled my shirt off as I tried to tip her for her back-to-back set of Alanis Morisette's "You Oughta Know" and Evanesence's "Bring Me to Life." (I'm not sure who got more out of it: her with the dollar or me with the ego boost.) However, we didn't stay long at the first bar we went to, Nowhere, because it had become invaded by bachelorettes. I absolutely hate when bachelorettes have their parties at gay bars. I know I really should be inclusive, but gay bars are where gay people go to relax and feel normal. Most bachelorette parties run in there expecting things: they expect the atmosphere to be a certain way; they expect all the gay men to be their automatic best friends and ready with a quick comeback and snaps in Z formation; they pound their hands on the bar if they feel like they're not being served fast enough. Basically, they come in and act as if the bar belongs to them and that we're all circus animals whose purpose is to entertain them. I understand it's someone's special day, but really, you're a guest in this territory: be considerate, slow your roll, treat us like normal human beings without the assumption that we're supposed to be great dancers and want to paint your nails, and you might just find we can be very welcoming.

The night ended with dancing on a light up dance floor, and the next day I had to drive back to Indianapolis to go to work. Life resumed, and in my last hour of work, I looked at the calendar. Twenty-one days until I arrive in France.