Remember in middle school when we watched those after school special videos that showed crazy house parties, where big kids tried to peer pressure littler kids into taking drugs? I felt like that’s where I was on Saturday night.
And. It. Was. Awesome.
For a number of reasons I don’t care to explain, I had been dreading Saturday for a while. When Bryan found out, he was more than willing to fill my day with exciting plans. Thankfully, there was a lot for us to do in Fountain Square!
It all started in the afternoon with the Fountain Square Grand Prix. We watched numerous bike races from the patio of a Mexican restaurant, and eventually made our way to a checkpoint B’s friends were working to watch the action up close. The security guard at the checkpoint even gave us popsicles!
After the races, we made our way over to Cataracts, which was essentially four giant house parties along Morris Street. Each house boasted a lineup of local bands, as well as some groups from nearby cities like Chicago and Nashville.
Cataracts actually went on for three days, starting on Friday with performances from artists including Oreo Jones and Margot & the Nuclear So & So’s.
Saturday, however, was the best day. Picture this: House parties at four houses, all with unique names. Port-o-johns. Booze, booze, booze. Tiny plastic bags containing unnamed substances exchanged between backpacks. Electric guitars. People sitting on rooftops lining the street. Free-roaming animals. Rockabillies as far as the eye could see.
We started at Skull Manor. All the windows and doors in the house were wide open, and people were everywhere – sitting on windowsills, on the roof, on the fences, crammed into the back yard. Beer cans, filled to varying degrees, sailed through the air, from roof to yard, from yard to roof. Band after band went on “stage”, a wooden patio with a painted cardboard backdrop designed to look like a mouth lined with sharp, sharp teeth. We watched Big Colour and Magic Milk (my personal favorite) while standing next to a guy pushing a baby stroller holding a plastic doll house with incense burning out of the chimney.
We moved on to Debbie’s Palace of Noise & Laundry, sitting on the rooftop overlooking the front yard. Bryan and Oreo chatted it up, while I cuddled a bottle of champagne wrapped in a brown paper sack and talked with a punk dude, who wore a denim vest full of buttons and jeans skinnier than my forearms.
Between songs, he explained to me that he’s seen a real change in the texture of his shoulder-length hair ever since he started rubbing sea salt into his roots. “It comes in a little vial and looks just like cocaine! Sometimes, I get them mixed up.” He got the idea on Pinterest. He was also curious to know if I thought it would be a good idea for him to dive head first off of the roof and into the crowd (I did not) and upon whose unsuspecting head he should empty his can of beer (no one’s).
We ended in the back yard of Dave Cave watching Natural Child before heading home for the night. Bryan told some girl his name was “Frank”, when she asked him, and I had a sudden craving for a BLT. (My pescetarianism was struggling at the time). So, we wove our way through the crowd, past the band, next to the glowing pyramid installation that filled Dave Cave’s yard, and down the street toward home.
I can honestly say I never, ever thought I would find myself in such a setting, but it was so much fun. Just another unexpected perk of living in Indianapolis and another reason why I’m in love with Fountain Square.