8:15 p.m. near Woodlawn Avenue
A group of women wearing yellow Kappa Alpha Theta shirts crosses 10th Street and sees friends walking in the opposite direction.
"We’re going to Upstairs!” one yells.
The others say they’ll meet up later. The bar-bound group sings a Theta chant as it heads down 10th Street.
Hours earlier, the team earned its 10th win in the women’s Little 500 at Bill Armstrong Stadium. Now, much like many other IU students, some of its members were beginning to hit the bars along Kirkwood Avenue.
Down the street, a trap remix of Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” ripples through the alleys surrounding Phi Gamma Delta. The rest of the sorority and fraternity houses on Woodlawn Avenue, including Kappa Alpha Theta, are quiet after a long day of racing.
Empty cups and cans scattered along the sidewalks serve as the only trace of the parties held in the days and hours leading up to the race.
8:30 p.m. on Kirkwood Avenue
Between Sample Gates and Kirkwood Avenue sits an invisible wall, separating the smell of liquor and that of IU’s campus. Though it’s still early in the night, lines snake around the corners of Kilroy’s on Kirkwood and the Upstairs Pub. The group from Kappa Alpha Theta, who announced their plans to meet at Upstairs, near the front of the line. People struggle to find a spot to stand inside.
Two men ride electric scooters up and down Kirkwood Avenue for about a half hour. On their first pass down, one nearly loses balance; but manages to stay upright as his scooter flings out from under him. He regroups for a moment, then continues riding with his friend. They do this at least two more times, waving to people eating outside Z & C Teriyaki & Sushi. They don’t seem to know the patrons, but it doesn’t seem to matter.
9:15 p.m. in downtown Bloomington
Groups of friends talk about graduation, creeps at the bar, dream careers and roommate drama as they bar hop.
Downtown, three firemen guard a live wire in front of Yogi’s. Someone called them after stepping on one of the wires and feeling a slight electric charge. The firemen on the scene don’t know what the wires are connected to, but they got in contact with Duke Energy and, hopefully, would be getting help soon. In the meantime, they stand around the wire to make sure nobody else steps on it.
In the distance, a bouncer yells about a $5 cover charge at Brothers Bar and Grill. People line both sides of North Walnut Street as they wait to get into either Brothers or the Bluebird.
9:30 p.m. on Kirkwood Avenue
Two different people point out FARMbloomington to guests from out of town as they pass each other outside the restaurant. Neither had been there, but both recommend it.
A large group gathers outside Upstairs and debates joining the line. They argue about going to the Video Saloon or Brothers instead but aren’t sure which bar would be the least crowded. Eventually, they decide to head in the direction of Brothers, but stay outside Upstairs for a bit, waiting on someone. None of them knew who they were waiting for.
At the intersection of Dunn Street and Kirkwood Avenue, a man dances against a black Porsche Panamera. He’d been there for some time, a City of Bloomington employee who had already been there for a few hours says, and had been blasting rap music through his car speakers before he was asked to turn down the volume. He lowers it for a bit, then turns it back up.
The same employee talks to him a bit later and asks the man to get out of the intersection, as cars behind him were forced to merge into one lane. The man lifts the hood of his car, closes it a few minutes later and continues dancing.
Bloomington residents Dennis and Kathleen Spahr laugh at the situation a few feet away and briefly chat with the employee as he walks away from the dancing man.
The Spahrs both went to IU, had kids who attended IU and even watched their son get married at Beck Chapel on campus. Now, they make a date out of every Little 500 weekend.
They grab a treat from Hartzell’s Ice Cream, find a spot to sit and watch students stumble around the entrance of Upstairs and fumble with door handles as they climb into Ubers.
Dennis Spahr teaches at IU, so he chose to wear a hat to avoid being recognized by former students.
10 p.m. on Third Street
Two men pee in the bushes that line Swain West. They talk about their upcoming graduation and future plans as they zip up and head back across the street to Chi Phi, where music and colorful strobe lights peek out behind tarps lining the backyard.
10:30 p.m. on Kirkwood Avenue
Lemons and limes fall from the Upstairs balcony, narrowly missing people’s heads down below. Members of Chi Alpha, a Christian organization on campus, offer free bottled water to people walking past. Most decline.
An older woman sticks her upper body out a maroon SUV’s sunroof and records a video of the bars as she rides down Dunn Street.
11 p.m. on Eagleson Avenue
Fraternity and sorority houses on Eagleson Avenue buzz with life. Groups of students walk into and out of houses, some returning home and some heading out for the first time that night.
It’s already 11 p.m., but the night has just begun for many students, and the streets of Bloomington would be filled well into the early morning. Lines would begin to form as early as 4 a.m. the next day in anticipation of the bars re-opening with breakfast, free merchandise and more drinks as race fans prepared for the men’s Little 500 on Saturday.
CORRECTION: This article has been updated to correct a current faculty member’s employment status.
