Monday night in Indy

Damn, this economy is depressing.
I left the bar and wanted a cup of coffee. I walk toward the Dunkin Donuts, which is about two blocks away. Not even 9 p.m. and it was already closed. Across the street is a steak place, and standing outside of it was a valet.
"Dunkin Donunts always closes this early," I ask.
"Not usually," said the valet. "Lately they've been closing early."
In my mind I write it off to the economy.
"Well I'm off to Starbucks then," I said.
We exchange pleasantries, and I head toward the Circle. I'm not much of a fan of Starbucks. I like Dunkin Donuts coffee much better; it's not as harsh.
Anyway I head toward Meridian, pass the still unfinished Buffalo Wild Wings and am eventually sidetracked by the bookstore that is still open. It closes at nine, so I have about 10 minutes left.
Walking past the chatting clerks, I head toward the magazine rack. I'm on a mission to see what hockey magazines might be available. To my surprise The Hockey New yearbook with Pavel Datsyuk is on display. Even more surprising is the latest issue of ESPN the Magazine. It features Alexander Ovechkin on the front and blurb about a breakdown of all 30 NHL teams. I'm cynical though. I bet it's just a two-page feature with the 15 Eastern Conference teams on one page and on the opposing page the 15 Western Conference teams. This is the four-letter after all.
Anyway I'm not in a buying mood - maybe tomorrow when my purchase will get me two free hours of Wi-Fi goodness. Right now I'm on a mission for coffee, even if it's not Dunkin Donuts.
Mushing northward it's on to Starbucks. I buy an Indianapolis mug I'd been eyeing since August and a medium coffee in a paper cup. I leave and head back to my car.
Restaurants and bars that would normally seem jumping are slow - a hostess props her head up with her hand, elbow on the podium. Places are figuratively dead.
Is it the weather, which is a spitting rain that's keeping people away? The change of seasons? Just a day or so from October, it's noticeably darker. Maybe the goblins and ghouls are already out and about.
Yet this is Monday night and Hank Jr. is ready to party. The bars that should be lively are dead. Even the one I left I was.
I had stopped by to watch the end of the White Sox - Tigers games. Foolhardily I thought it would start at about 7 p.m. It started earlier though. So now with the speakers blaring loudly I'm subjected to four-letter idiocy - the ranting Chris Berman and the know-it-all former players and coaches. Start the game already I've had enough! It's only been five minutes. This will only be a two-pint night.
Everybody is such an American football fan now. Arguably the most popular sport, it bores me to tears. My gripes - there's no flow to the game, and it takes way too long between plays. It's thoroughly boring in my opinion.
The announcers, especially the four-letters, don't make it anymore enjoyable either. In fact they detract from it.
Tonight one of them said Terry Bradshaw and Lynn Swann were window dressing compared to Mean Joe Green. He then quotes an Eagles song.
"Come on, man. I had a rough night, and I hate the fuckin' Eagles, man!"