I was saddened to learn that the Chocolate Moose, a landmark ice cream place on Walnut Street in downtown Bloomington, is going to be demolished to make way for a generic office building. The distinctiveness of local culture vanishes for faceless uniformity, yet again.The Chocolate Moose was a quirky little building shaped like a chocolate chalet. You went to the window to order soft-serve ice cream, floats, shakes, hot dogs, sloppy joes, that sort of thing. No indoor dining, but there were a couple of picnic tables.
It was only a block from the apartment Viju and I shared during my second year in graduate school at Indiana University.
It was open until 2:00 am, so we often dropped by after cruising at Bullwinkle's, especially if we struck out (if we were successful, we took our hookups to Bob's Burgers instead).
The later it got, the better the sightseeing -- half-drunk fratboys pushing soft-serve cones into each other's faces, shirtless jocks licking on snow cones until their tongues turned blue.
In spite of the beefcake, there wasn't a lot of cruising going on.
1.Most of the customers were straight.
2. There weren't a lot of places to hold private conversations.
3. Once you're ready for ice cream, you're probably too emotionally raw to handle a hookup.
But I have a good hookup story involving the Chocolate Moose.Bloomington, Spring 1984.
Viju and I head out to Bullwinkle's, about five blocks from our apartment.
There's a boy pacing around the entrance, with that deliberate-but-nonchalant look of someone trying to get the nerve to go in.
He's very young, probably just 18 (which would make him five years younger than me), short, slim, pale, not my usual type, but very cute, with black hair, an oval face, very red lips, and a little blush in his cheeks.
We make eye contact. I start to say something like "It's not so bad inside," but Viju pushes me through the door.
"What's the matter? Didn't you think he was cute?"
"Oh, yes, definitely worth it! But I was worried -- he might be an undercover cop. The minute you say something sexy, bang! You're finished!"I wait awhile, but the Freshman never comes in. Viju and I set out to cruise, but we really don't have our minds on it -- after seeing the super-cute guy at the entrance, everyone seems second-rate.
We cruise for an hour or so, but no one comes to mind. Finally we leave.
On the way home, we pass the Chocolate Moose. The line is half a block long.
"Want ice cream?" Viju asks.
"No, I'm not waiting in a line that size! You go on. I'll see you at the house."
I leave Viju waiting in line, return to the apartment, and sit down to watch tv and read a book.
A half hour passes. Then 45 minutes. How long was that line, anyway?
Did Viju decide to go back to the bar? Did he get kidnapped? Should I go out looking?
Then I hear footsteps on the stairs. Viju comes in -- with the Freshman, still carrying his malt!
"This is Jerry," he says, his arm around the boy. "He's a freshman, planning to major in economics."
