Month: November 2025

I’m Kayla. I live on the near east side, a few blocks from Irvington. I hang a flag on my porch. In May, it has to be the Indy flag. But this time, I kept it up long after the race. I wanted to see how it holds up, and how it feels to live with it.

You know what? It felt like home.

That smart little star in the middle

Up close, the design just works. Navy blue field. A clean white cross. A red ring around a white star. It’s simple. But not boring.

My neighbor’s kid pointed at it and said, “Is that a bullseye?” I smiled. “Kind of. It’s Monument Circle.” The cross looks like our big roads. The star is the Soldiers and Sailors Monument. If you’ve walked the Circle at night, the red ring makes total sense. It’s a tiny map.

Fun bit: a big flag nerd group (North American Vexillological Association) ranks this flag really high. I get why. You can sketch it from memory. For a deeper dive into the evolution of the city’s emblems, the Indianapolis Encyclopedia’s entry on seals and flags is well worth a skim.

What I bought and where I used it

• I bought a 3×5 nylon Indianapolis city flag from United States Flag Store in April 2023. It had brass grommets and a stitched fly edge. I put it on my porch pole with spinning rings so it wouldn’t wrap.
• I grabbed a small Indy flag patch from The Shop Indy on Mass Ave. I sewed it onto my denim jacket. That patch has gone to Gen Con, the State Fair, and a Pacers game. It still sticks. It even got compliments when I strolled down Georgia Street.
• I also tested a 2×3 printed polyester flag from a local mall kiosk in November. Cheap. It was fine indoors, not on the porch.

I flew the 3×5 through rain, July heat, and those surprise gusts that roll through on a Sunday. I took it to the IMS lot B for race weekend too. It helped my friends find our tailgate. Bright red ring pops in a sea of checkers.

Fabric talk, but in plain words

Nylon: light, a bit shiny, and it flies in light wind. Mine shed rain well. It dried fast after storms. The edges frayed a little by month ten. Not bad, though.

Polyester: heavier and kind of matte. The cheap print looked flat. It fought the wind, but it also faded faster. Blue went chalky first.

Appliqué vs printed: My porch flag was printed, so it was one layer. A sewn appliqué version looks richer and lasts longer, but it costs more and weighs more. If your pole is flimsy, go printed.

Grommets: Brass is best. Mine didn’t rust. The cheaper one had nickel grommets that did.

Little wins I didn’t expect

• The red ring reads from far away. Drivers on my street could spot it at a glance.
• It never felt cheesy. Some city flags do. This one looks grown-up.
• The color balance plays nice with fall leaves. Silly note, but my porch photos looked great.
• During the Circle of Lights, I swapped it out for a wreath for one week. I missed it. Put it back up. Felt right again.

Things that bugged me

• Some printed runs are off. I saw a few with a skinny ring or a star that looked stretched. Mine was centered, but check before you buy.
• The blue on cheaper flags skews bright. True Indy blue is a deep navy. If it looks royal blue, pass.
• Wind will find the weak spot. My nylon flag needed a tiny stitch at the top header after a 30 mph gust day. Took five minutes with white thread.
• The dye in the red ring did fade on the outer edge by month fourteen. Not dead. Just sun-kissed.

Price and sizes I tried

• 2×3 indoor print: under $20. Good for a studio wall or classroom.
• 3×5 porch nylon: I paid about $30–$40. Sweet spot for homes.
• Sewn appliqué 3×5 I handled at a local shop was around $90–$120. Looks premium. Heavy.

For a standard 6-foot house pole, 3×5 is the match. For an apartment balcony, 2×3 looks tidy and won’t tangle on your neighbor’s grill.

Real life moments that sold me

• My daughter traced the white star with her finger and asked if that’s where we are. I said, “Close. But yes, that’s where our city’s heart beats.”
• A man at the Indy 500 tailgate yelled, “Nice flag!” then used it like a landmark. We laughed when he showed up with nachos like it was a lighthouse.
• During a summer storm, I pulled it down, towel-dried it, and tossed it over a chair. It made my living room feel like a little museum piece. Funny how a flag can do that.

Later that month, I pinned the patch on my bag for a grown-up night in Indy; a server on Mass Ave spotted it and gave me a thumbs-up. If your idea of an evening out occasionally leans toward more personalized, adults-only companionship, consider browsing the curated roster of independent professionals at this Indianapolis escorts directory where you can discreetly arrange meet-ups and read verified local reviews to ensure a comfortable experience. For readers who find themselves on the East Coast or have friends in Bristol County, a handy resource is the regional personals hub on Doublelist serving Taunton—Doublelist Taunton—which compiles fresh ads, location filters, and safety pointers so you can connect with like-minded locals just as confidently as you would back home.

Tips if you want one

Before you click “buy,” ALCO offers a concise guide on flag materials and care that’s worth a two-minute read.

• Look for deep navy, not bright blue.
• Choose brass grommets and a double-stitched fly edge.
• Nylon flies better on calm days; polyester holds color a bit longer in heavy sun.
• Wash gently once a season. Cold water. Mild soap. Air dry flat.
• If your pole doesn’t spin, add a swivel clip. Tangling is what ruins corners.

The patch, quick note

That Indy flag patch on my jacket? It survived a washer cycle and still sticks tight. The colors held. I did one extra stitch at the corners. Worth it.

The verdict

I give the Indianapolis flag a 4.5 out of 5 for daily flying. Design is A+. Pride factor is high. Nylon lasts about a year of porch use before it wants a rest, which is fair for our Midwest wind and sun.

Would I buy it again? I already did. I grabbed another 3×5 for this May. It’ll go up the week of the Mini-Marathon. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t take it down after.

I’ve made this trip more times than I can count. Work, kids, concerts, a Cubs game, you name it. So here’s my honest take, with real trips that went great…and a couple that were not so great.

Need more granular numbers, mile-by-mile exit notes, and the exact spot where the scenery flips from cornfields to Chicago skyline? I laid all of that out right here so you can bookmark it for later.

The short answer

• By car: about 180 miles. It takes 3 to 3.5 hours in normal traffic.
• Straight line: about 165 miles. (Birds fly faster than my Subaru.)
• By train: around 5 hours on Amtrak, give or take.
• By bus: usually 4 to 5 hours, depending on stops.
• By plane: 1-hour flight, but about 3 hours door-to-door when you count the airport stuff.

Time zones matter. Indianapolis is Eastern. Chicago is Central. Heading to Chicago, you “gain” an hour. Coming back, you “lose” one. Sneaky clock.

My real drives (good, bad, and windy)

I drive a 2018 Subaru Outback. Nothing fancy, just sturdy. I take I-65 almost the whole way. It’s simple: point north and go.

• Best time for me: Monday morning, wheels up at 7 a.m. I reached downtown Chicago in 3 hours flat. Light wind, smooth road, zero drama.
• Worst time: Friday at 3 p.m. in July. Road work near Gary plus a crash. It took 4 hours and 40 minutes. I was fine, but my iced coffee gave up halfway.
• Windy day story: One March trip felt like my car was a kite. I kept a steady 65 mph and both hands on the wheel. Got there safe. Just tired.

Gas? I usually stop once. Fair Oaks Farms (off I-65) is my go-to. Clean bathrooms, good snacks, and a latte that doesn’t taste like sadness.

Toll note: If you take the Chicago Skyway (I-90) at the end, there’s a toll. I use I-PASS, but E-ZPass works too. You can avoid it by staying on I-94, but it’s slower.

Train days: slow, calm, and kind of nice

I’ve taken the Amtrak Cardinal from Indianapolis to Chicago on a rainy Sunday. It took just under 5 hours. I read, I snacked, I stared out the window like a thoughtful movie character. It was calm. Not fast, but calm.

• I paid around $35 for my ticket.
• The seat was comfy, and the power outlet worked.
• We rolled into Union Station, which is an easy walk to a lot of stuff.

If you like peace and don’t need speed, train days can be lovely. And if you want my blow-by-blow of a recent sleepy, snack-filled ride, you can check out the full story here.

Bus runs and quick flights

Bus: I’ve used FlixBus and Greyhound. Prices were friendly (I paid $22 once), but timing was a little wobbly. My last bus took about 4.5 hours with a quick stop. Bring a hoodie. Bus AC hits different.

Flight: I’ve flown IND to ORD and IND to MDW. If you want the exact mileage between the airports, this IND-to-ORD distance calculator breaks it down in one click. The flight itself is an hour, but door-to-door took me about 3 hours with parking and security. TSA PreCheck helped. If you’re heading right downtown, Midway (MDW) felt easier than O’Hare (ORD).

Tiny tips that save big time

• Leave early or late. Middle of the afternoon can get sticky near the state line.
• Check traffic near Gary and the Skyway. That spot loves a slowdown.
• Watch the wind. I-65 is open and gusty. Keep a steady pace.
• Snacks and fuel: Fair Oaks Farms is a winner; Love’s and Pilot are fine too.
• Winter rule: keep a blanket and gloves in the trunk. Learned that the hard way.

Before any long drive, I like to skim the travel safety guides over at ALCO — their checklists are quick, free, and have twice reminded me to top off tire pressure before hitting I-65.

What I actually do

• Quick work trip? I drive. I leave by 7 a.m., set Google Maps, and hit I-65.
• Rainy weekend? Train. I bring a book and headphones.
• Tight schedule with meetings? I might fly into Midway and take the Orange Line.

Money talk (real numbers I paid)

• Gas for the round trip in my Subaru: about $35 to $45, depending on prices.
• Train: $30 to $50 for a basic ticket.
• Bus: $20 to $40 most days.
• Flight: I’ve paid anywhere from $98 to $220, not counting bags.

PS: If your itinerary turns into an overnight on the Indy side, I road-tested four different boutique stays and shared the unfiltered pros and cons in this roundup.

One quirky side note: if your trip winds up as a solo evening in either city and you’re curious about discreet ways to line up a last-minute dinner date, you might want to read this refreshingly candid Ashley Madison review—it breaks down membership costs, privacy safeguards, and real-world success odds so you can decide whether the app is worth a download before room-service arrives.

If your travels ever push you beyond the Midwest—say you’ve got a connecting flight through Newark or a conference on the East Coast—you might also appreciate this straightforward Doublelist Newark guide that explains how locals use the platform, the best times to post, and safety tips so you can navigate the city’s casual-meetup scene with confidence instead of guesswork.

So…how far is it, really?

It’s close enough to feel easy, but far enough to plan a little. I call it a 3-hour drive that sometimes turns into 4. I’ve done it fresh at sunrise and grumpy after work. Both were fine. You know what? With coffee, a good playlist, and a decent plan, the miles go fast.

If you need simple: Indianapolis to Chicago is roughly 180 miles. Car: about 3 hours. Train: about 5. Bus: about 4 to 5. Plane: 1 in the air, 3 total.

See you on I-65. I’ll be the one singing along and watching the clouds.

I bought tickets on a Tuesday and went that Friday. Not smart, but hey, sometimes you just go. I threw on my old Converse, a sparkly jacket, and a pink scrunchie that kept slipping. Worth it. A last-minute buy, sure, but I'd read this quick P!nk concert rundown earlier in the week and knew the chaos would be worth it.

Getting there without losing your cool

We parked in a garage a few blocks from the arena downtown. Taking the short detour along Georgia Street made the pre-show stroll feel like its own attraction. It was $20. The walk in felt easy—lots of sequins, dads with daughters, moms’ night out vibes. Anyone crafting a similar adults-only evening should peek at this first-person grown-up night guide for dinner and drink ideas nearby. A food truck sold soft pretzels, so I grabbed one. The line at security moved fast, but the bathroom line didn’t. Classic.

Heads up: clear bag rule. I brought a tiny crossbody and sailed through. My friend had a big purse and had to stuff things into her coat. Awkward, but we made it.

If you want a quick refresher on venue safety policies, the handy checklist at ALCO breaks down what you can—and can’t—carry inside.

The openers set the table

A DJ warmed up the crowd first. He mixed throwbacks with new stuff, and people actually stood up. Then Grouplove bounced out and yelled, “Let’s go, Indy!” It wasn’t subtle. It was fun. The lead singer did this wild sprint across the stage that made me tired just watching. Their song Tongue Tied hit hard. Everyone near me sang the “woo” part like it was 2011 again. If you’re curious about the songs P!nk usually slots in after the openers, Ticketmaster’s quick guide to her current set list has all the spoiler-ready details.

Seats, sound, and that huge screen

We sat on the side of the stage, upper level. Not nosebleeds, but we were closer to the popcorn than the floor. The big screen saved us. The sound was loud—boomy on the first song—then the mix settled. You could hear P!nk’s voice cut through the drums, clear and tough. Bring earplugs if you’re sensitive. I kept mine in my pocket and used them during the bass-heavy songs.

When the lights went pink

P!nk came out swinging with Get the Party Started, and confetti shot up like soda foam. She grinned like she couldn’t wait to show off. Then Raise Your Glass turned the place into a giant toast. I didn’t expect to yell-sing that hard. I did anyway. For a song-by-song peek at how her shows evolve, I later compared Indy’s opener with this 2025 Metropolitan Opera setlist and noticed she shuffled just two tracks.

She’s an athlete. During Try, sparks fell like hot rain while she and a dancer did this push-pull routine that felt like a fight and a hug at the same time. The dramatic staging hit the same note of theatrical wow I felt during Wicked at the Murat; only the broomsticks were replaced with bungee cords. Later, she moved to the silks for a slow song—Turbulence—and hung there like a lantern before twirling down. My stomach flipped, and I was just sitting.

That “So What” flight? Wild

You know what? I thought it was hype. It’s not. When she strapped in for So What and launched, she flew over us with a full flip, this bright comet with silver boots. She passed so close I could see the glitter on her eyeliner. A guy behind me ducked. He didn’t need to. But I get it.

The soft parts got me

In the middle, she slowed down. She sang What About Us with the crowd lights up, and it felt like one huge choir. Hands up, voices cracked, everyone leaned in. During When I Get There, she showed photos of her dad on the screen. I’m not a big crier. Still cried. A small one, but still.

She did Cover Me in Sunshine too. Her daughter popped up on the screen, and everyone smiled like aunties. Sweet, simple, and yes, catchy.

Indy crowd check: kind, loud, and funny

People shared phone chargers in our row. A teen next to me air-drummed during Just Like a Pill like it was his job. A mom behind us knew every word to Who Knew and fist-pumped on the chorus. The ushers were patient with the aisle dancers, which helped.

Feeling inspired to keep the concert buzz alive and maybe meet fellow fans for the next big show? Hop onto this free chat line to meet girls where you can start no-cost conversations, swap playlists, and even line up a future concert buddy.

For anyone planning to catch P!nk’s Arizona dates and curious about using classifieds to find a pre-show hangout or even a last-minute ticket buddy, swing by this detailed look at Doublelist in Maricopa—it breaks down posting etiquette, peak hours, and safety pointers so you can connect confidently and get back to focusing on the music.

Merch, snacks, and money stuff

• Shirts were around $45 to $50. Hoodies were about $90.
• The line was long before the show, shorter during the openers.
• Bottled water was $6. My pretzel was $8. Worth it.
• The poster looked cool but sold out by intermission.

I bought the tote. It’s sturdy and, yes, very pink.

Tiny gripes (because no show is perfect)

• Parking after the encore took a full 30 minutes to crawl out.
• The bass swallowed the first song a bit in the upper level. It got better fast.
• Seats were tight. If someone needs to pass, you’re standing a lot.
• The bathroom line near our section was a snake. Use the one on the next level if you can.

Tips I wish someone told me

• Get there early and hit merch during the DJ set.
• Bring a clear bag and a portable charger.
• Wear comfy shoes. You’ll stand more than you think.
• Stay for the encore. She flies. People who left early missed the best part.
• If you’re using rideshare, walk two or three blocks before calling. Faster pickup.

The part that stuck with me

P!nk talked to us like friends. Not a speech—just small stories. She joked about being sore and then went right into another flip like it was nothing. She reminded us to be kind, which sounds simple, but it landed. Maybe that’s why the whole room felt gentle even while it rocked.

When the last confetti fell, I had glitter in my hair and a sore voice. I hummed Never Gonna Not Dance Again all the way to the car. Still humming as I write this.

Should you go?

Yes. If you like big pop shows with heart. If you want to see a singer who can fly, belt, and laugh in the same breath. If you don’t mind a little glitter on your shoes the next day.

My score: 4.7 out of 5.
Would I go again in Indy? In a heartbeat. I’ll bring better earplugs and the same wobbly scrunchie.

I went to see Post Malone in Indianapolis, and I left hoarse, happy, and a little sticky from spilled beer. Worth it. If you want the blow-by-blow, my full recap lives right here. I’ll tell you what happened, what I loved, and what bugged me just a bit. You know what? It felt like the whole city sang with him.

Getting there, Indy style

We parked in the garage off Pennsylvania, a short walk to Gainbridge Fieldhouse. It was warm out, and the air smelled like pretzels and rain. Pacers banners flapped a little. People wore black tees and big smiles. A kid near us had “Posty” drawn on his cheek in sharpie. Cute. For anyone driving in, the Fieldhouse posts detailed directions and parking options on its site that can save you an extra loop around the block.

We had seats in Section 114, row 11. Good angle. Not floor, but honestly, I’m short. I like seeing the stage without playing peek-a-boo with tall folks.

The vibe before the first note

Merch line? Long. The black tour tee was $45. My friend grabbed a hat anyway. I went for a soft pretzel and water. Security moved fast but checked bags. Clear bag rules, so don’t bring a big purse. If you’re unsure, the arena’s official What to Know Before You Go page spells out every policy. The ushers were kind, like “Hoosier nice.” One even joked, “You ready to lose your voice?” Yes. Yes I was.

When the lights dropped

The crowd popped. Like, full-body cheer. Post walked out with his guitar, all smiles, and said, “I love you, Indy.” Corny? Maybe. Did we scream anyway? Oh yeah.

• He opened with “Wow.” Big bass. My seat shook.
• Then “Circles.” The whole arena lit up with phone lights. It looked like a soft snowstorm, but warm and slow.
• “Chemical” hit harder live than I expected. It felt bright and punchy, like a late summer drive with the windows down.
• He did “Stay” with just the guitar and a single spotlight. Did I cry a tiny bit? A tiny bit.
• “Sunflower” turned into a massive sing-along. Even the guy who said he “doesn’t really sing” sang.
• He closed strong with “Congratulations.” Confetti, hands up, pure joy.

He also played “White Iverson,” and you could feel the floor sway. A guy behind me rapped every word and still somehow didn’t spit on my neck. Bless him.

Little moments that stuck

He stopped mid-song and asked security to check on a girl in the pit. He waited till she gave a thumbs-up. That felt good. He signed a fan’s boot near the front. He tossed guitar picks into the crowd like tiny yellow birds. He kept saying thanks, like he meant it. The only other show that left me this buoyant was P!nk’s stop downtown—I went to that one too and I’m still humming.

How it sounded (and felt)

The sound was loud, but not muddy. Vocals sat clean on top. I could hear his little cracks and rasps, and I liked that. Real voice, real breath. The drums rattled my chest during “Rockstar.” There were flames for a few songs; you could feel the heat on your cheeks. My hair felt dry after. Indy gets humid, but fire wins.

What I loved

• Song flow. No dead space. He kept us moving and grinning.
• His talk with the crowd. Short, sweet, grateful.
• The mix of hits and softer songs. It balanced my heart and my feet.
• The people around us. A mom, her teen, and her dad in a Pacers cap. Three generations, same beat. Kinda sweet, right?

Side note: the pretzel was oddly perfect. Warm, salty, and gone in six bites.

What bugged me (a little)

• Parking after the show took a while. We inched, we waited, we sighed. Maybe pick a garage farther north next time.
• Beer lines were a mess. If you want a drink, go before the opener ends.
• Floor sight lines looked rough for short folks. If you’re under 5'4", seats may be better.
• Merch prices, man. I get it, but still.

If you’re going next time

Before you even lace up your concert sneakers, skimming through this straightforward concert-day cheat sheet can save you from parking headaches and merch-line meltdowns.

• Bring a clear bag and a small wallet.
• Wear comfy shoes. You’ll stand a lot.
• Show up early for parking and less stress.
• If it’s summer, bring a light layer. The arena AC can get chilly.
• Eat nearby first. Pearl Street pizza or St. Elmo’s if you’re feeling fancy (the shrimp cocktail will clear your soul).
• Record a few clips, but live in it. The best parts aren’t on your camera anyway.

One tiny gripe I changed my mind about

I thought the autotune on one song would bug me. On record, it sometimes does. Live, though? It felt like a color, not a crutch. It fit the mood and the lights. Funny how that works.

Final take

Post Malone in Indianapolis felt warm and honest and big. I left with ringing ears, a sore throat, and a grin that stuck till morning. On the ride home, we played “Chemical” and rolled the windows down, even though it was midnight. Silly? Maybe. But it matched the night. And if you’re more into Broadway than bass drops, catching Wicked at the Murat shows how magical Indy can feel even without pyrotechnics.

Would I go again? Yep. In a heartbeat. And I’ll bring cash for that hat I talked myself out of, then wanted the second I got home.

If your concert travels ever drift from the American Midwest to the sun-bleached promenades of the French Riviera, you might wonder how to meet fun locals for an after-show drink or two. A quick browse through this no-nonsense guide to connecting with people in Nice—find a date in Nice here—lays out the best neighborhoods, apps, and etiquette tips so you can skip the guesswork and dive straight into good company by the sea.

And hey, if Posty’s tour bus eventually rumbles through Pennsylvania and you find yourself crashing just south of Wilkes-Barre with post-concert adrenaline to burn, this ultra-specific local guide to DoubleList Hazleton breaks down which sections of the platform are hottest, how to craft an opener that actually gets replies, and the safest late-night coffee spots for a first meet-up, so you can turn that show-night high into real-world conversation without wasting time on dead-end swipes.

I’m Kayla, and I’ve spent a lot of slow Saturdays in Woodruff Place. I house-sat there last spring, then came back for the big Flea Market in June. I still swing by when I need a calm walk and a pretty view. If you want the nitty-gritty logistics plus more porch photos, I put together this expanded Woodruff Place weekender too. It’s not fancy. It’s not loud. It feels like an old photo that still breathes.

First impressions: the fountains and the porch life

The first time I turned down Middle Drive, I slowed way down. Tall trees. Huge porches with swings. Statues and urns on the grassy median. One marble lady, in fact, was so generously carved that it reminded me how timeless the admiration for fuller figures really is; if that kind of classic, curvaceous beauty catches your eye, you can browse a modern gallery dedicated to big tits where body-positive imagery and live conversation let fans appreciate voluptuous art in an adult-only space. The fountains make that soft splash sound you hear before you see it. I stood there with my coffee and just listened. You know what? It felt like the street was saying, “Hey, take your time.”

Neighbors waved. A dog in a red bandana trotted by like he owned the block. A woman watered ferns on a second-floor porch. It’s calm, but not empty. There’s always a little hum.

A real Saturday I loved

Here’s one day that stuck with me.

• 8:15 a.m. I jogged up West Drive. I passed a guy setting out a “free lemons” box. He told me the tree out back went wild this year (in Indiana!).
• 10:00 a.m. I grabbed a cinnamon roll from a kid’s bake table by the center fountain. Sticky, warm, gone in two bites.
• Noon. I chatted with a couple fixing porch railings. They let me hold a paint cup while they leveled the post. We talked about how wind pushes the screen door shut. Little stuff, but it felt like home.
• 2:30 p.m. I curled up on a bench by the fountain with a paperback. A dragonfly skimmed the water. I could smell cut grass.
• 6:00 p.m. I walked to grab takeout nearby, then ate on a friend’s porch. The sun slid behind the trees. Crickets kicked in. Honestly, that sound with the fountain? It’s like a lullaby you forgot you knew.

The Flea Market: bring cash and comfy shoes

If you go in June, you’ll hit the Woodruff Place Flea Market. It spills across lawns and porches, and the whole neighborhood turns friendly and busy.

I bought:

• A green glass vase for $8. It catches the light like a little lake on my windowsill.
• A stack of old Indy postcards for my kitchen wall.
• Lemonade from two kids. It was too sweet. I drank it anyway and tipped a dollar. Their faces lit up.

Get there early. Parking is tight, and the good stuff goes fast. Food stands pop up, and someone is always selling grilled corn. I dripped butter on my shirt. Worth it.

What works here (and why I keep coming back)

• It’s beautiful, but not stiff. The homes are grand, sure, but real life is all over them—chalk drawings, ferns, folding chairs, mail slots with stuck flyers.
• Walkable. The three long drives are flat, shady, and safe for a slow stroll. I saw families, runners, and one very serious cat.
• Close to downtown. A quick drive or ride, and you’re at Mass Ave, Bottleworks, or Georgia Street (and if you need a bed, my boutique-hotel roundup can help). Then, back to the quiet.
• People are neighborly. Not in-your-face. Just… present. A wave. A “need a hand?” when you wrestle a package.

If you’re curious about how enclaves like this keep their 19th-century charm while welcoming modern life, the preservation tips at ALCO make an eye-opening read.

What’s not so perfect

• Mosquitoes love the water and shade. Summer evenings? Bring spray. I forgot once. Never again.
• Street lighting is soft. Pretty, yes, but dim. If you’re walking late, go with a buddy or keep a small light.
• Flea Market weekends are crowded. Parking gets wild. Plan ahead.
• It’s an old neighborhood. You’ll see ladders, paint cans, and crews fixing trim. I like it, but if you want brand-new everything, this isn’t that.

Tiny moments that made me smile

One night I heard a trumpet two porches over. Just a warm-up scale. Then “Autumn Leaves,” slow and sweet. Folks clapped from their steps. I held my tea and just stood there.

On a foggy morning, a man in a bright yellow raincoat walked three small, chunky dogs. They pranced like loaves of bread. I laughed out loud. He did too.

During fall, porches stack pumpkins in odd colors—blue, white, lumpy orange. Someone lined theirs up like a smile. It’s small. It sticks with you.

Tips if you go

• Respect the medians and the statues. They’re old and cared for.
• Keep it slow when you drive. Kids chase bubbles, and dogs nap near the curb.
• Bring cash for yard tables. Not everyone takes cards.
• If you like photos, morning light on the fountains is gold.

Who will love it

• Porch people. If you get joy from sitting still and watching a street breathe, you’ll be happy here.
• Walkers and joggers. Flat, shady paths with pretty views.
• History fans and house nerds. So many styles, so many small details.
• Folks who want city access but a soft place to land. If you’re scoping out spots for a soft-start romance, peek at my real date nights in Indy before you book the porch.

If you want nightlife on your doorstep, look elsewhere. For a louder after-dark plan, here’s how I stack a grown-up night in Indy. If you want a calm base with easy reach to busy spots, you’re set.

Speaking of mixing travel with meet-ups, I’ve learned that having a city-specific classifieds hub in your back pocket makes spontaneous plans smoother; when I head down to South Florida, I check the scene at Doublelist Deerfield Beach for quick, location-based personals, safety tips, and local hangout ideas that help me connect with like-minded folks before I even unpack my sunscreen.

My take, plain and simple

Woodruff Place feels like a neighbor who always leaves the porch light on. It’s gentle. It’s proud. It’s lived in, not precious. I go there when my brain is loud and my feet want a slow path.

Would I spend another weekend there? Yep. I’d bring bug spray, a paperback, and a few singles for lemonade. And I’d save room for grilled corn, because I never learn.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5, and that half point I’m holding is for the mosquitoes.

I went to see Billy Strings at the TCU Amphitheater at White River State Park in Indy. I’m still kind of buzzing. You know what? It felt like a big porch pick, but with lasers and a skyline. If you want a more nuts-and-bolts recap, Live For Live Music’s write-up does a great job painting the picture.

Getting there felt easy… mostly

I parked in the White River garage by the museum. It was a short walk past the canal. The sky looked pink, like cotton candy. I grabbed a soft pretzel and a Sun King beer. I should’ve eaten more. The beer lines moved slow, and I got hungry again by set break.

I sat on the lawn with a small blanket. People brought camp chairs. Lots of tie-dye. Friendly folks. A dad tossed a Frisbee with his kid. A woman near me was knitting between songs—no joke. It felt cozy.

The setup and the sound

The stage was simple but sharp. Warm lights. Those swirling patterns looked wild on the trees behind the stage. When Billy hit the first run on his guitar, it cut through clean. Bright, but not harsh. I wore earplugs anyway. I’m careful now.

The band was tight. The bass thumped like a soft heartbeat. The banjo ran fast and showed off a bit, but in a good way. I liked how the fiddle slid into the jams. It gave me chills, real ones.

Real moments I can’t forget

• He opened with Dust in a Baggie, and I clapped so hard I sloshed my beer on my shoe. Worth it.
• Meet Me at the Creek turned into a long jam. I stopped checking time. People around me started humming bass lines, which made me laugh.
• He played Away From the Mire near the end. A group next to me hugged and cried. I felt it too. That song hits deep.
• He nodded to John Hartford. It made sense—this city loves Hartford. The crowd cheered like they knew him.
• During Tennessee Stud, a guy in front of me two-stepped with his girlfriend. She wore boots with stars. They were cute and a little awkward. My favorite kind of couple.

Little side note: a train rolled by on the tracks behind the park. The horn blew between songs. Folks cheered like it was part of the show. The unexpected dramatic pause felt almost Broadway—like the time I caught Wicked at the Murat and the audience gasped at the flying monkeys.

People and vibe

Indy turned out. Families, jam heads, first-timers. I swapped a sticker for a setlist scribble from a teen who was braver than me near the rail. You can compare our handwritten notes with the official setlist here. Ushers were kind. One called me “darlin’” and reminded me to drink water. I did. Twice.

Earlier this summer the same grounds pulsed when Post Malone and later P!nk came through, so I knew the lawn could handle some stomp-and-shred bluegrass too.

I danced a lot. Small steps on the lawn. The grass was damp. My calves got a tiny workout. I don’t mind.

What bugged me (just a bit)

• Beer and bathroom lines were long. Plan ahead.
• If you’re short, the lawn sightlines can be rough. I had to move twice.
• Merch was pricey. I wanted a tee, but $45 made me pause.
• Mosquitoes by the canal snacked on my ankles at set break. Bring spray.
• Getting out of the garage took a while. I sat with the windows down and listened to folks singing Mire in the ramp. That part was nice, actually.

Nerd note (sorry, I can’t help it)

Billy’s flatpicking was crisp. He plays fast, but it never feels empty. The band listens. They leave space. The banjo and mandolin traded little runs like they were passing a note in class. The bass kept us honest. And when the fiddle leaned in, the crowd got quiet. You could feel everyone breathe together.

Tips if you go

• Bring a light blanket and a low chair for the lawn.
• Earplugs. Trust me. You’ll still hear the sparkle.
• Eat before the opener. Lines stack fast.
• Bug spray and a hoodie. River air gets cool late.
• Park early, or use a rideshare and walk the canal.

If you're already itching for another bluegrass road trip, the ALCO concert calendar can help you zero in on the next stop. Or, if you’d rather keep things local and level-up date night downtown, skim through this grown-up night in Indy guide for ideas. And hey, if live shows leave you charged up but still craving a little late-night flirtation, check out Best Chat Line To Find Hot Sex — it rounds up trusted chat numbers and insider tips so you can keep the post-concert spark sizzling long after the encore.

Prefer your meet-ups in a classifieds-style format rather than over the phone? Travelers headed west—or anyone mapping out a tour stop in Silicon Valley—can browse Doublelist Palo Alto for a curated rundown of local personals, safety pointers, and profile-writing hacks that make it easier to line up coffee dates, post-show hangs, or even a temporary crash-pad with fellow music fans.

Final take

I left with sore cheeks from smiling. My hair smelled like grass and kettle corn. I don’t say this lightly: I’d see him again tomorrow. Indy fits Billy—open, warm, a little rowdy, and full of heart.

Was it perfect? No. But it felt real. And that’s why I’m already checking the calendar for the next show.

I live on the near east side of Indy.
It puts me just a bike ride away from the leafy lanes of Woodruff Place, a neighborhood that’s become my porch-perfect weekend spot.

I like simple dates that still feel special. I also like food. A lot. So I’ve tried a bunch of spots with my partner, Alex. Some were cute and slow. Some were loud and wild. A few were flops. But you know what? We learned what actually feels good here.

If you want the blow-by-blow recap—including what worked, what flopped, and what I’d gladly do again—you can jump straight to the full story here.

Here’s my honest take, from real nights out, messy hair and all.

If you’re still in the “finding someone to take out” stage—especially if you’d like to connect with vibrant Latina singles online—check out this guide to the best Latina hookup sites to try in 2025 for side-by-side reviews, safety notes, and pro tips that can move you from the app to an actual table for two with way less guesswork.

And if your dating radius stretches up I-65 to Purdue country, skimming the local personals rundown at Doublelist West Lafayette can show you exactly how to post safely, when the board gets busiest, and which sections grab the quickest replies—so you spend more time planning the date and less time waiting for someone to message back.

Canal walks, art, and easy sunshine

On a warm Saturday, we rented a pedal boat on the Downtown Canal Walk. I packed sunscreen and two cold drinks. We moved slow, which I kind of loved. It’s not a workout. It’s chat time. A kid splashed us as he ran by, and we just laughed. Parking near White River State Park was fine, then we grabbed gelato after. Tip: bring wipes. That steering wheel gets a little sticky.

Newfields (discovernewfields.org) is my quiet-day go-to. We saw a new exhibit, then walked over to The Virginia B. Fairbanks Art & Nature Park: 100 Acres. We sat by the lake and watched geese argue like old neighbors. The art felt playful. We had a small picnic. I forgot the napkins. It still felt sweet. In winter, Winterlights at Newfields is pure magic. We held hands in our puffy coats and shared hot cocoa. Simple, bright, and a little mushy (in a good way).
That stroll was one of those evenings that just felt like magic, and I’d relive it in a heartbeat.

Garfield Park Conservatory saved one of our gray Sundays. Warm air. Big leaves. Foggy glasses. We paid a small fee and took a slow lap, then played cards at a table near the ferns. It felt like a tiny vacation without a big plan.

Play first, brag later

Duckpin bowling at Atomic Bowl in Fountain Square got me for two reasons: tiny balls and old-school charm. I thought I’d crush it. I did not. The pins are stubborn. We talked trash, then split fries next door. My forearm hurt the next day, but the good kind. Make a reservation if you can. It fills up.

Pins Mechanical at Bottleworks is a vibe—pinball, foosball, and a big, buzzy crowd. We shared a cider and took turns on skee-ball. The neon lights made my photos look cooler than I felt. Noise level? High on weekends. If you want to talk, go earlier on a weeknight.

Speedway Indoor Karting was our “we need a thrill” night. Those karts aren’t toys. They move. I was nervous, then I got very, very into it. I lost to Alex by 0.4 seconds and still told everyone I won. Wear closed-toe shoes. Hair up if it’s long. The adrenaline sticks with you.

Eat a little, walk a little

Bottleworks District is a cheat code for dates. We hit The Garage Food Hall (visitindy.com) and shared tacos and dumplings, then wandered around.
Many of the vendors rotate dishes that popped up during my sprint when I ate my way through ‘newish’ Indy, so bring curiosity (and stretchy pants).
And if you’d rather not drive home, I’ve stayed at 4 boutique hotels in Indianapolis and can vouch that a comfy king bed steps away turns the whole thing into a mini-vacation.
We popped into Pins for a quick game, then strolled down Mass Ave. Street music. String lights. The whole thing just feels easy. The only hiccup: I always want too many things. Sharing plates helps.

Bluebeard in Fletcher Place is our “let’s celebrate” spot. The bread board is unreal. I always say I’ll just take a bite, then I eat half. It’s cozy, and the plates feel special. We got stuck looking for parking, though. Next time I’m just calling a ride.

We went to Livery on Mass Ave for empanadas and a rooftop seat. The string lights, the soft hum of people talking—it felt like a movie. We ordered one too many dishes (no shock there). Worth it.

For summer nights, BRICS (Broad Ripple Ice Cream Station) is cute as can be. We grabbed two scoops and walked the Monon Trail. We sat by the bridge and watched bikers roll by. A dog tried to steal my cone. I didn’t blame him.

Music and movies that spark a chat

The Jazz Kitchen in Broad Ripple is date-night gold. We booked a table near the stage, ordered dinner, and let the music do the talking. It’s not a shout-over-the-noise place, so it works for conversation. They make a solid old fashioned. I wore a sweater dress and didn’t feel too fancy or too plain.
Still, when I need a bigger burst of strings and stomps, nothing tops the night I caught Billy Strings in Indianapolis.

Living Room Theaters at Bottleworks is my cozy movie pick. The seats are comfy. The films are a little off the beaten path. We shared popcorn and a glass of wine, and I cried at the ending of a small film that most people missed. Reserved seats mean no stress.
Paired with a late-night cocktail, it landed squarely in the ‘grown-up night in Indy’ category for us.

Indiana Repertory Theatre gave us a rich night out. We saw a holiday show, grabbed a quick bite nearby, and took pictures under the lights on the circle. Dress code is pretty chill. We went smart-casual and fit right in.
Broadway favorites roll through town, too—the night I saw Wicked at the Murat left me green with delight.

Big crowd, big fun

Victory Field is my favorite “we need fresh air and fun” idea. Lawn seats, blanket, and a sunset view of the skyline. I love the slow pace, the crack of the bat, and the fireworks on select nights. Cheap and cheerful.

Pacers at Gainbridge Fieldhouse? Loud, bright, and full of energy. I ate a giant pretzel that cost too much, and I still smile about it. We parked a few blocks away to save time on exit. Worth it.
That same arena is where I spent a rowdy evening with Post Malone, and the place absolutely shook.
If pop-rock spectacle is more your speed, the aerial acrobatics at the P!nk concert in Indianapolis still have me humming.

Tibbs Drive-In is peak cozy. We packed pillows, snacks, and bug spray. We set the radio to the right station (after arguing for 30 seconds), wrapped up in a blanket, and watched a double feature. When the second movie ended, the whole lot felt calm, like summer camp.

Nature that resets the mood

Eagle Creek Park is huge. We rented a kayak from Eagle Creek Outfitters and paddled out near sunset. A heron glided over the water like it was drawn there. My shoulders were sore the next day. My heart felt light. We ate sandwiches on a bench and listened to the wind.

Holliday Park has ruins that look like a movie set. We walked the trails,

I live in Indy. I’m curious by nature. So I spent two weeks testing Skip The Games in Indianapolis. I used my phone and my laptop. I checked it from Broad Ripple, Fountain Square, and even near Speedway after a Pacers game. I wanted to see what works, what doesn’t, and what felt off. Here’s my honest take, no fluff.

Want the blow-by-blow version of my field test? I put the full story in this extended Skip The Games Indianapolis report.

Quick note before we start

This site is for adults. It’s messy. There are risks. I didn’t use it for meetups. I tested the site like I always do—search, contact, report, repeat. Think of this as a street-level review of the tool, not a “how-to” for anything shady.

What it felt like on day one

The site looks like an old local classifieds page. Big list. Lots of photos. Many posts repeat. Some look real. Some… not so much. On mobile, I had pop-ups that made me sigh. On desktop, it ran better, but still felt dated.

If that layout instantly reminds you of Backpage, you can see how today’s scene stacks up in my plain-talk Backpage Indianapolis review.

You know what? I don’t mind simple. But simple still needs a lock on the door. Before you dive in, take a minute to skim these universal security tips from Google—they apply everywhere, including here.

How I used it (real examples)

I ran a few small tests. Nothing wild. Just enough to see patterns:

• Example 1: “Maya317” had three selfies and a short bio with a 317 number. I sent a polite text asking for a same-day chat window and a recent photo with two fingers up (a “peace sign” check). She replied fast, then asked for a deposit by gift card. I said no and reported the ad. By the next day, that post was gone.

• Example 2: “RedFox SouthSide” posted nice studio shots. Too nice. I ran a reverse image search on one photo and found it tied to a model page in another state. I flagged it. The post stayed up that night, but it was removed two days later.

• Example 3: “BroadRippleCass” wrote in full sentences and was polite. That stood out. She sent a selfie with a thumbs up after I asked, which felt more real. Then she pushed me to switch to Telegram right away and pressed for money first. That’s where I bowed out. Quick pressure + money first = hard pass.

• Example 4: During race week build-up, I saw a sudden spike in new posts. Many had the same phone number with tiny changes (like 317-555-0123 vs 317-555-0132). That’s a classic clone pattern. I reported three. One got pulled the same afternoon.

For anyone curious about how TS escort listings fit into the Indy landscape, I’ve shared a candid, firsthand breakdown here.

Honestly, after a while, I could spot the fakes fast. But it took a lot of clicking and a little luck.

What I liked

• It’s busy. There are tons of posts in Indy, especially on weekends.
• Replies come fast. I got answers within minutes at night.
• You can browse without logging in. No account needed just to look.

What bugged me

• Fake ads. Lots. Some use stolen pics or stock shots.
• Deposit asks. Cash App, gift cards, or “send half first.” Big red flag.
• Pop-ups on mobile. It got in the way.
• No strong checks. I didn’t see real ID-style verification or clear safety tools.
• Reposts and clones. Same text or number, tiny changes. It wastes time.

On a calmer note, when my back was wrecked I tested a handful of legit body-rub spots—this Indy body-rub review covers what actually helped.

The Indy flavor, for real

• Broad Ripple and Fountain Square had the most posts when I checked.
• Late nights get noisy. Weekends too. Monday mornings? Pretty quiet.
• During big sports nights, I saw a fresh wave. Pacers games, race week, even Colts home games did that to the feed.

Funny thing: I could hear the Speedway buzz outside my window while sifting through posts. Felt very “Indy.”

If you’d rather plan a full, grown-up night out that keeps you well clear of the scam mines, my first-person guide to an adult night in Indy has a ready-made roadmap.

Safety thoughts I kept front and center

I kept it simple and strict:

• I never sent money first. Not a dollar.
• I asked for a quick “peace sign” selfie to check if the person matched the ad.
• I used a separate number app, not my main line, for privacy.
• I reported anything that felt off. Fast and calm.
• I didn’t share my full name, job, or home details. No chance.

For a deeper dive into online safety basics, check out the quick tips over at ALCO. For an official law-enforcement perspective on meeting up after online classifieds, the Carlsbad Police Department offers a concise online classified ad safety guide.

These are basic internet safety moves. They help on any site, not just this one.

The people behind the screen

Some replies felt kind and human. A few thanked me for being polite. Others were blunt or pushy. That’s the internet for you—real folks mixed with bots and bad actors. The site doesn’t do a great job sorting that out for you. You have to do the sorting.

Who might use this—and who should skip it

• Might use: Folks who can smell a fake from a mile away, don’t mind clutter, and will never send money first.
• Should skip: Anyone who wants clean design, strong checks, and a safe, clear system. If you want structure, this isn’t it.

If you just want to meet people, try normal apps first. Bumble, Tinder, Hinge—those are boring sometimes, sure, but way more stable. Even then, stay smart. For a more direct, adults-only option that skips the clutter and connects you with local singles looking for no-strings fun, check out Fuck Buddies—you’ll get a free account, photo-verified profiles, and a chance to chat with real people instead of wading through endless scams.

Prefer to stick with the classifieds vibe but compare how a smaller market handles things? Take a look at the Opelika, Alabama edition of DoubleList here: DoubleList Opelika — the page showcases fresh local posts, simple filters, and a noticeably lower spam rate, giving you a cleaner snapshot of how the platform works when moderation keeps the noise down.

Need lighter fare? I’ve logged my hits, misses, and magic moments from real date nights around Indianapolis if you want ideas that don’t involve classifieds at all.

My bottom line

Skip The Games Indianapolis has volume, but it’s a minefield. I got quick replies. I also hit scams again and again. The site runs, but it doesn’t protect. You have to protect yourself.

My score: 2.5 out of 5 for usability in Indy. It works, but it wears you down.

Would I use it for anything serious? No. Would I browse it to study trends or report fakes? Yes. And if you do step in, go slow, trust your gut, and never pay first. Because once the money’s gone, it’s gone.

Final say

Indianapolis is warm, stubborn, and straight-talking. I love that about our city. I wish this site had that same energy—clear, honest, safe. It doesn’t, not yet. So keep your eyes open, keep your wallet shut, and keep your wits about you. That’s the real game here.

I used Backpage in Indy back before it got shut down in 2018. It was fast, messy, and kind of thrilling. Also, sometimes it felt sketchy. Both can be true, right?

If you’d like the long-form, beat-by-beat version of that first run, I put it all down in this full version of my Backpage blow-by-blow.

Real Stuff I Did With It

I didn’t use the adult sections. I stuck to normal classifieds. Jobs. Tickets. Used stuff. That kind of thing.
For another plain-talk Backpage recap with a slightly different mix of real-life examples, you can skim this breakdown.

• I bought a used Trek bike from a guy near Fountain Square. He met me by the duckpin bowling alley on a sunny Saturday. The chain was noisy, but he threw in a lock. I rode it up to Garfield Park the same day.
• I sold a gray couch from my Broad Ripple apartment. A grad student and her brother came with a U-Haul. We had to tilt the couch on its side to clear the stairwell. We laughed, then scraped the wall. Oops. She still Venmo’d me on the spot and left happy.
• I picked up Pacers tickets the night of a game. The seller met me outside Gainbridge Fieldhouse, near the team store. I checked the seats with him right there. We walked in together to be safe. The seats were fine. We won by a little. Felt like a good call.
• I found a one-day warehouse shift out by Plainfield. It was just a quick load-and-stack gig. Hot. Dusty. Paid cash at the end of the day. I remember the orange Gatorade more than the boxes.
• I hired a “mover” near Speedway. He showed up late, but he did haul my dresser down two flights. He used duct tape as a handle, which sounds dumb, but it worked.

Was it perfect? No. Did it save me money? Most days, yes.

The Weird Bits I Couldn’t Ignore

Backpage was easy to use. The page looked plain, which I liked. But the site also had adult ads mixed in. I didn’t click them, but I saw them, and it made the whole place feel off at times. If you’ve ever wondered what actually happens when someone follows one of those ads, here’s a candid look at meeting a TS escort here in Indy. It’s like walking into a flea market with a few tables you don’t want near your kids. You keep moving, but you still notice.

The bigger issue? Scammers. A few times I got pushy messages. “Send a deposit.” “Hold this for me till Friday.” “My shipper will come.” That kind of talk. Red flags. One person even mailed me a check way over the price and wanted the extra sent back. I took it to the bank. Fake. I kept the box fan I was selling and learned my lesson. On the flip side, a legit massage can be a lifesaver after hauling couches—my back can vouch for it after I dug through this first-hand review of Indy body rub spots.

I also met one seller at a gas station off Keystone who didn’t bring the item we agreed on. He tried to swap in a cheaper model. I said no. He shrugged. I went home and made a grilled cheese. Sometimes the best deal is not doing the deal.

So, Did Backpage Work in Indy?

For quick, local finds? Yes. It was like a fast lane. You’d post and get pings within an hour, sometimes minutes. It beat waiting around. It worked great for simple stuff: bikes, small furniture, last-minute tickets, day gigs.

But I never felt fully calm using it. Not once. I stayed alert. I checked my gut. I told a friend where I was going. That’s not nothing.

How I Handled Safety (Learned It the Hard Way)

Here’s what actually helped me:

• Meet in public, daylight if you can. Monument Circle, a mall lot, or by the coffee shop inside a big store.
• Bring a friend, or at least text a friend the plan.
• Cash is cleaner. No “I’ll mail a check.” Nope.
• Don’t send deposits to strangers. Ever.
• Look up the phone number. If it’s all spam hits, walk away.
• Trust your gut. If it feels off, it is.

For anyone who wants even more practical tips, you can skim the concise safety checklist posted by ALCO, which breaks down meet-up protocols step by step.

I once finished a meetup at the police substation lot near my area. The seller rolled up, saw the building, and smiled like, “Cool.” We both felt better. Quick trade. Done.

What I Use Now That Backpage Is Gone

Backpage got shut down. Honestly, I’m fine with that. I found other spots that feel safer and still get the job done in Indianapolis.

• Facebook Marketplace: I sold my stroller here in one afternoon. Met outside a Meijer, bright as noon.
• Craigslist: Still solid for deals. I grabbed free fill dirt for my yard from a guy in Lawrence. Messy boots. Happy yard.
• Nextdoor: I found a handyman to fix a wobbly fence gate before a storm blew in. He lived five blocks away. He even liked the Colts flag on my porch.
• OfferUp: Picked up a Nintendo Switch Lite for my nephew. The kid at the counter verified it turned on. Sweet and simple.
• For gigs: I stick to real job boards now. Warehouse, events, catering, that stuff shows up a lot around Lucas Oil, the track, and downtown.

Some folks still poke around the adult-ad boards. I kicked the tires on Skip the Games once, too—here’s my real-world take on Skip the Games in Indy if you’re curious about how it stacks up. If you’re curious where many of the post-Backpage crowd now look specifically for personals, a lot of them browse this dedicated sex-ads board on JustBang, which organizes listings into a clean, adults-only feed so you can see who’s offering what without sifting through unrelated classifieds. For people who travel outside Indiana, it’s also handy to know how Doublelist-style boards operate in other cities—taking Suffolk, Virginia as an example, you can glance at this quick guide to Doublelist in Suffolk to compare posting rules, safety cues, and overall vibe before you ever log in.

On game days or race week, prices jump. That’s Indy for you. Carb Day? Don’t even try to be last-minute. You’ll be chasing shadows.

The Feel of It, If You Want the Truth

Backpage felt like a crowded market on a windy day. Loud. Fast. Good finds flying by. Also, a little dusty in the corners. I liked the speed. I didn’t like the risk. I saved money. I kept my guard up. Both things can live together.

And when the snow hit and slush got deep, I loved that I could still score a used snow shovel near Irvington and be home in time for chili. That’s the kind of small win that sticks with you.

Final Word

Backpage worked for me in Indianapolis for simple, local stuff, but it came with noise and nerves. I got real deals, met real people, and learned to keep my head on straight. Now I use other sites that feel safer and still get me what I need.

If you ever want to ditch the classifieds altogether and just plan something fun, you can peek at my guide to planning a grown-up night out in Indy for ideas that don’t involve haggling over used couches.

Do I miss the rush? Sometimes. Do I miss the stress? Not one bit.

I live on the south side of Indy, near Garfield Park. When the alert hit my phone early one morning—Boil Water Advisory—I felt that little knot in my chest. You know what? It’s wild how fast you think about coffee, baby bottles, dog bowls, and pasta water, all at once. If you want the blow-by-blow timeline, I pulled together a separate diary-style recap on ALCO that digs into every gritty detail of that week-long advisory.

Here’s my honest take. What worked. What didn’t. And a few things I wish I’d known before my sink turned into a science lab.

The moment it hit

The water had been low the night before. My shower felt like a mist. Then the alert came through from Citizens Energy, and local news pushed it too. I checked the tap. Cloudy. I smelled a bit of chlorine. My brain went straight to the kettle.

I filled every pot I own—big stock pot, Dutch oven, even the little saucepan I use for ramen. It felt silly, but it helped. The stove looked like a steamy factory. My kitchen windows fogged up, which would’ve been cozy if I wasn’t counting minutes.

What I did that actually helped

• Rolling boil for one full minute. That’s the rule here. Indy is not high up, so one minute works. I set a timer, because I forget.
• Cooled the water in clean glass jars (old pasta sauce jars work). I labeled them “BOILED.” Not fancy. Just a Sharpie.
• Kept a “safe water” station on the counter: sealed jars, clean ladle, clean funnel. I told everyone, “If it’s not in this spot, don’t drink it.”
• Turned off the ice maker. Tossed the old ice. It pained me, but yeah.
• Used my dishwasher on the sanitize setting. It runs hot enough. On a day I wasn’t sure, I rinsed dishes with boiled water after washing.
• Coffee talk: my drip brewer doesn’t keep water at a boil long enough. I boiled water in a kettle first, then poured into my French press. It tasted fine. Honestly, better than usual.

If you want the official specifics straight from the utility, the Boil Water FAQs from Citizens Energy Group spell out everything from boil times to ice-maker do’s and don’ts.

I also learned fast: a Brita helps with taste, not germs. You still have to boil first. I used the filter only after the water cooled.

Stuff that didn’t work (and made me grumpy)

• The Keurig. Folks ask about it. It heats the water, but not long enough to count as safe. I tried once, then poured it out. My husband laughed. I didn’t.
• Washing leafy greens with tap water. Don’t. I rinsed with cooled boiled water. Takes time, but my salad didn’t haunt me.
• Brushing teeth with tap water. Not worth the risk. We kept a jar by the sink and used little paper cups. My kid thought it was “camp.”

Kids, pets, and little routines

My daughter’s sippy cups were the big thing. I boiled water in the morning and filled a pitcher just for her. We called it “her water.” It made her smile and kept her from grabbing from the sink.

Our dog, Scout, drinks a lot. I set a bowl with boiled-and-cooled water by the back door. It felt fussy, but he’s family.

For showers: we still showered, but I told my kid, “Mouth closed, like a fish.” She giggled and did it. Small wins.

Shopping during the rush

Kroger on Shelby was slammed by lunch. Meijer was better in the morning. Speedway had a few gallon jugs near the counter (I asked; they were hiding them to keep it fair). Aldi had canned sparkling water, which felt fancy but didn’t help with pasta.

Honestly, after circling parking lots all morning, I needed a breather downtown. A short stroll along Georgia Street reminded me that the city still hums even during a scare, and you can read my no-filter walk-through of that strip if you're hunting for a quick mental reset.

Pro tip I wish I knew earlier: keep two empty gallon jugs for future days. Fill them with boiled water for cooking. They stack. They don’t spill. And they cost nothing.

In fact, while doom-scrolling for any place that still had gallon jugs, I remembered that Indy folks sometimes post spur-of-the-moment supply stashes on classified boards. One site that surfaced was Bedpage classifieds, a hub of local listings that can connect you with everything from emergency handymen to neighbors flipping extra bottled water, so it’s worth a quick search if the usual retailers strike out. I also peeked at another city’s forum—Doublelist’s Redmond board—just to see how other communities handle last-minute exchanges; their real-time swaps for bottled water and household staples gave me ideas. You can scroll the listings on Doublelist Redmond to pick up crowd-sourced tips on safe meet-ups, price norms, and quick messaging etiquette that could easily translate to Indy classifieds when shelves run bare.

Cooking during the advisory

• Pasta water: boil like normal, but start with tap, then keep it at a good rolling boil. Drain like usual.
• Sauces, soups, oatmeal: I pre-boiled the water first, then used it in the pot. Was it extra? Yes. But I stopped worrying.
• Fruit: wiped apples and pears with a clean towel. Rinsed berries with cooled boiled water. Not fun, but fine.
• Ice: we lived without it. I tossed any frozen fruit that touched old ice. That hurt my smoothie habit.

Communication from the city

The alert came fast. That part was solid. For a statewide perspective, I also skimmed the Indiana Department of Health’s boil-water guidance—handy if you’re wondering what counts as “safe” for brushing teeth, washing produce, and more. The map zone confused me at first. I found a clear update on local news and on Citizens’ social posts. Also, our neighbor posted on Nextdoor, which helped more than I like to admit.

The re-check took a bit. They have to test the water, twice, which makes sense. It took a couple days for us. Once the “all clear” came, I ran the taps for a few minutes, dumped the first batch of ice, and cleaned the fridge filter housing.

Side note: the whole experience had me staring at the roof line and thinking about how water actually leaves the house in the first place; if your gutters look as sketchy as mine did, here’s my candid take on getting Indianapolis gutters and downspouts sorted before the next downpour.

Small techy bits I learned (in plain speak)

If you’re curious about the nitty-gritty of water testing and treatment standards, I found a concise explainer on ALCO that turned the jargon into plain English.

• It’s about germs, not taste. Boiling kills them. Filters don’t.
• One minute at a rolling boil works here. You don’t need to boil forever.
• Dishwashers on sanitize are usually fine. Old models? Rinse with boiled water.
• Garden water isn’t a big deal. Just don’t let kids drink from hoses. Mine tried. Of course she did.

What I’ll do next time (because there will be a next time)

• Keep two clean gallon jugs in the pantry.
• Store a sleeve of paper cups for tooth brushing.
• Freeze a tray of ice made from boiled water once the advisory starts (after you dump the old stuff). Takes planning, but it helps.
• Write the start date on a sticky note. It calms the brain to see a timeline.

My verdict

Was it a hassle? Yep. Did it break our week? Not really. The city alert was quick. Stores ran low, but I found what I needed with a little asking. Boiling got old, but after the first morning, it felt like a routine. Like prepping for a Colts game, but with pots.

If you’re in Indianapolis and you get the alert, here’s my simple rule: boil for a minute, cool it, label it, and keep one clean spot for “safe water.” It’s boring. It works. And when the all clear hits, that first glass from the tap tastes like summer. I’m not kidding.

Quick ratings from my kitchen:

• Ease of handling: 7/10 once we had a plan
• City alerts: 8/10 (fast, but maps were fuzzy)
• Store stock: 6/10 mid-day, 9/10 early morning
• Stress level: Started at a 9, dropped to a 4 by day two

Would I handle it the same way again? Mostly. I’d just start boiling sooner and label more jars. And I’d hide one chocolate bar for morale. Trust me—future you will thank you.