We topped off our evening’s festivities at Nick’s English Hut on Kirkwood.
This watering hole was Bloomington’s equivalent of Cheers.
When we arrived, the place was packed and it wasn’t even 8:30 PM yet. Our little group made our way up to the Hump Room on the second floor and quickly found a table.
I was still fuming from the incident at the restaurant. Even though Josh and I sat next to each other, we didn’t look at each other nor was there a single word spoken between us. While he focused on the college basketball game shown on the big screen television, I entertained myself by observing what the other patrons were up to.
Let me tell you, there was a lot of action going on.
To our right, was a large table occupied by sorority sisters and their moms. The group was intensely playing “Sink The Biz,” a drinking game that originated at Nick’s quite a number of years earlier.
Named after the infamous sinking of the Bismarck— the World War II German battleship destroyed by allied forces— the game was played by placing a large metal bucket filled with beer (approximately two pitchers worth) in the center of the table. A weighted juice glass (the Biz glass) was floated in the center. Each participant had a full pint glass of beer in front of them. Going clockwise around the table, everyone took a turn pouring beer from their pint glasses into the Biz glass in the bucket. They could pour as much or as little as they wanted. The object was to keep the Biz from sinking. The person who sunk the Biz had to drink it fast like a shot. Furthermore, if the same person sunk the Biz three times, that individual had to drink all the beer in the entire bucket. In reality, depending on who was playing, the participants’ goal might or might not have been to sink the Biz—every chance they got. It was amusing watching this gathering of upscale moms and their female offspring calculating how much beer to pour to keep the Biz afloat and then it was fascinating observing how the losers handled their fate.
To my left, was another interesting crowd. They looked way too old to be college students. And based on their actions, they certainly didn’t behave like parents visiting their kids. Without a doubt, all of them were wasted. Many of them also appeared stoned out of their minds. A loud bunch, they were oblivious to all the attention they were drawing to themselves. A few very well-endowed, somewhat attractive women in their group were busy giving lap dances to a couple of men who were seated in the middle of the gathering. While this was going on, several others got up and began bumping and grinding on the dance floor. As they gyrated, some of the men felt up their partners while a couple of the women blatantly began stroking their dancing buddies crotches. I was trying to figure out who these people were and what they were doing there. The only thing I came up with was that they were local swingers. I thought this would have been a good time to try to break the tension between Josh and me. I pointed out the happenings to our left and asked him if he had ever seen these people at the bar before. He looked over briefly, stated he didn’t recognize them and then went back to watching the action on the television screens.
By 10:00 PM, all of the day’s activities were starting to catch up with me. Thankfully, the other frat mom was as exhausted as I was. We told our sons that we were ready to get back to our hotel. I’m sure our kids were relieved to hear this. They were probably wondering how much longer it would be before they could finally drop us off and then go party like they really wanted to.
All I knew at that point was I couldn’t wait to get back to my room, crawl into bed and go to sleep.