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OMG, the Greek Islands in Indy was the first restaurant where I ever had a regular paying gig as a bellydancer, so very long ago and far away now.
I'd drive up from Bloomington on alternate Friday nights. Sometimes when things got lively George would break plates so I always wore shoes. I'd do two or three sets, each in a different costume, and on the way back down 37 with Angela's leftovers in a styrofoam box I'd roll the windows down to keep myself awake and the scent of honeysuckle would rush in.
I have a million stories about that place. So very weird and evocative to see it again.