We met in the park. Well, not actually the park. A parking lot in the park. See, in Chicago, there’s this long parking lot that runs along Lake Michigan on the north side of town. Between Montrose on the south and Foster on the north, this parking lot has been the hangout of gays and hustlers since God knows when. Guys cruise up and down the pavement in their cars, eyes darting from left to right, looking for new “friends.” The busiest time to cruise in the park is around dusk, when the sky is just beginning to turn a nice violet shade at the horizon. There’s still enough light to peer into the cars, to see what your prospects might be.
I don’t like going over there at night. I like to see what I’m getting.
Guys also pull up in the parking spaces, and like debutantes waiting to be asked
