Posted on 1 Comment

Insomnia

Insomnia coffee shop Columbus Ohio

“Well, Christ,” Damon sighs, after we’ve finished chucking a sack full of potatoes at Alan’s door, down our stairwell, and finally at some apartments across the street, “we might as well walk down to Insomnia, see what those freaks are up to.”

A favored shortcut steers us south on Indianola, meets the sweeping arc of East 16th. In the orange radiance of streetlights struggling through the trees, parked cars clog both sides of the narrow street, ass to mouth. Past the nation’s first ever junior high school, still functional, and a brand new building OSU erected to accommodate its Jewish student body, where broad, crescent shaped brick steps bow before a glorious glass foyer. Bands forever carrying gear through the Bernie’s back door, as 16th dead ends with a club foot against the High Street sidewalk. A unique configuration that lessens traffic, abets our breezy stroll.

From the sidewalk, we descend some stairs to land upon their black and carpet rug, the one with this Insomnia logo emblazoned upon it. Regardless of hour, Insomnia is perpetually jampacked with bodies. Tonight, a few geeks studying even, as other clusters of bored roommates stoop over Jenga, cards, chess. Mostly, however, as is often the case, belligerent skinheads comprise a solid majority here, with a healthy dose of Maxwell’s goths thrown in for good measure. Plenty of conventional seating in the heart of the floor area, although church pew types also line some of the walls. The Goff siblings share an uneasy glance, as Damon and I imagined they might. But for guys like us who live to keep the pot continually stirred, pairing our redneck allies with the weirdo contingent at this all night coffee shop is too rich a prospect to resist.

The only one among us with so much as a nickel in his pocket, I spend nearly every cent I have on a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Feeling sorry, as I do, for K.C., who looks about ready to cry over these croissants behind the glass case.

“Man I wish I had some money,” he whimpers, rocks on his heels, licks his lips, “those look good.”

We find an available seat near the room’s center, sneaking surreptitious glances at the pierced punks. Just as we marvel at the industrious students able to focus here, where the wondrous fragrances of a million varied coffee blends waft and mingle with an equally diverse conversational mosaic. Yet with the exception of my steaming hot beverage, we collectively have nothing else to hold our interest. Lacking other means of absorption, we’re the true freaks here, the only ones in the room paying attention to anybody else.

To our left, a well-dressed, clean cut kid, head shaved bald, stands talking to a pair of OSU pupils. Nearby, this black bum wanders in and out of the store, he shuffles around inside, mumbling to himself and harassing the customers with an occasional, unwarranted rude comment. He passes the kid with the shaved head, hisses “nazi!” before drifting outside again.

Slamming on the brakes mid sentence, the kid’s features harden and he follows the homeless figure, flying through the doorway with one hard shove. Located below ground level, with its entire front wall a sheet of glass, the layout here fulfills our voyeuristic impulses honed through years of channel surfing. A tidal wave ripples through the patrons as they too are glued, for this instant, to the scene unraveling outside. Lying just beyond the glass, ten or twelve cement steps rise to meet a half dozen exterior tables. Filled near capacity, this cramped arena hosts the bum and the skinhead, slinging incendiary threats at one another with commendable gusto. Sensing trouble, the counter help leaps into this potentially explosive fray, sprints out of bounds before this heated exchange escalates into something else. An employee escort removes the combatants from Insomnia’s culpability zone, though all parties involved continue sparring on the sidewalk.

“You guys ready to leave?” I ask.

If we had known this treasured campus haunt would prove so short lived, we might have been a little more inspired to stick around and observe as much as possible. Not just on this night, but the many others we drifted here, during this brief, halcyon period in the late 90s.

Insomnia was located at 1728 North High Street, a spot now occupied as I write this by a bar called Midway. The street level exterior actually looks more or less the same, excepting the paint job, enough that you can tell what it once was. Insomnia’s lease expired in July 2000 and they were put on month-to-month terms at that point, before finally closing in spring 2001. In an Other Paper article dated January 11 of that year, owner Scott Smith is quoted as saying, “the landlord never particularly liked us, so it’s not surprising. He was never a big fan of our patio. He never liked us being open 24 hours.” A lawyer, Brent Rosenthal, who acts as go-between for the landlord, is quoted as explaining, “I’m the trustee for a trust. The guy who owned it put it in a trust for estate-planning purposes in 2000.”

A Starbucks that just went in nearby has affected their business somewhat as well. Smith also says, about the pending close, “we have a small group of avid, if not mildly insane, customers that aren’t happy.” Incredibly enough, at this time, Dunkin’ Donuts has no locations whatsoever in Columbus (they’d yet to make their shocking comeback) and Starbucks is only beginning to infiltrate – that new location, on the other side of the Urban Outfitters’ building, opened for business in 2000, and was the first anywhere near the OSU campus. But clearly, the times were swiftly changing, not just here but everywhere else around town.