Show-me what you got, Btown

Between the months of August and May, “townie” status is less than desirable. However, for the other three months of the year, townies rule the streets of Bloomington.

From skaters hanging out in Peoples Park to hipsters shopping it up in Cactus Flower, these natives have the wonderfully muggy Indiana summer to let their townie roots shine.

Born and raised in Bloomington, I am all too familiar with being called a townie. But going to the University of Minnesota during the school year has given me a new perspective on what this less-than-coveted term means.

Being away has taught me to appreciate my birthright as someone born and raised in this town, and returning for the summer has become a rediscovery of why I love Bloomington.

After living here for 19 years, I have a surplus of stories. For example, I recently went to the prestigious restaurant Show-Me’s. For those who pay absolutely no attention, Bloomington has recently added this rather controversial restaurant to its West side. Despite some opposition, the Hooters-style bar and grill opened to those looking for more than just wings.

I decided that, in my need to know all that is Bloomington, Show-Me’s was a must-see. So some friends and I piled into my car and made the trek across town.

As we arrived, it became immediately apparent that I was going to have a hard time not giggling like a school girl — and was then given a rather serious lecture from my friends and instructed to “hold it together” while inside. A few deep breaths and a couple sniggers later, I was ready to embrace my first Show-Me’s experience.

Led to our table by the hostess, we wound our way through the maze of perhaps the largest man-cave in the world. Glancing through the menu and settling on a tenderloin sandwich, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it through the doors without cackling like a child.

“Are you ready to order?” I looked up into the familiar face of a high school classmate.
Right then, my stomach flipped and a giggle like no other came out. Suddenly having forgotten my order, I buried my face in the menu, trying unsuccessfully to stifle my grin. I squeaked out my order to the death-glares of the friends around me.

Understand that I was not laughing at her for working there or for the fact that I never imagined I would see her wearing so little. Rather, I was laughing because, frankly, I’m a child, and someone seeing me at this restaurant was like someone seeing me perusing an adult bookstore.

I was mortified, and the only reaction my body could produce was an embarrassingly girlish giggle.

After finally calming down, I found the rest of the meal was not up to par. The sandwich was like expensive carnival food and was served on dishes one step up from paper plates. The food was not worth it, but the story made up for it tenfold.

So, despite the sub-par food and my failure to “hold it together,” I had put another notch in my belt of Bloomington restaurants and continued my journey toward rediscovering the town after my nine-month hiatus.

If this instance is any indication, this should be my most interesting summer yet. Bring it on, Btown!