A few weeks later, my friends threw a party. Not for me specifically, but it ended up being a true Bloomington sendoff. A bathtub was filled with ice, and, if memory serves me correctly, 90 (!!) cans of beer. I woke up the next morning, sticky with sweat, and not sure how or when I had commandeered my spot on the couch. I tip-toed around the few people left passed out on the floor and walked home to pack up my car with the last of the things from my apartment. I then drove back to Indianapolis and unloaded it all into my childhood bedroom.
I couldn’t ignore the appeal of a larger city
From a certain angle, Indianapolis seems like not much more than clusters of strip malls connected by long, winding highways. Outside of the state, mentions of the city are usually greeted with “Oh, I drove through there once.” I guess you could say coming from the area earns you a certain amount of humility and hunger, a yearning to make up for what your city is perceived to lack. We even struggle with what to call ourselves: "Hoosiers" -- referring to anyone from the state of Indiana -- is too general, and, seriously, very dorky. "Naptowners" is good, but it's too much of a local dialect thing that can only be pulled off by genuinely cool people (or radio DJs). Meanwhile, "Indianapolitans" is just plain unpronounceable. Plus, I don’t think I've ever heard anyone say it out loud.