That's me. I remember dancing on the pool table. I don't remember being slouched over on the side of the pool table. And I don't know which happened first. You can read Grayson Currin's review of the last night of King's at www.indyweek.com (Image taken by Derek Anderson)
I miss King's
My birthday is on Friday and I have no where to celebrate. Well, there are plenty of places I could go. There is the Jackpot- not my crowd on the weekends, somewhere on Gleenwood Avenue- too fake, the Alibi- almost like the Jackpot but in a basement, Slim's- too smokey. I could list many more bars or clubs and I would find sufficient reasons to rule them all out because the only place I want to go to is King's. I want to dance and thrash my body to rock n' roll. I want the bartenders to tell me happy birthday. I want to drink one too many PBRs and wash my hands with terribly cold water. I want to chat with Mike D or Dave. I want to run into people and talk about music. I want to feel at home. I want my King's back- that's all I want for my birthday.