Elias Sanchez hadn’t exactly set out to open up a drag hot spot when he hauled a vintage bar off of Craig’s List into an old railroad storage shed and nailed a hand-painted sign over the door of The Crossing. He hadn’t even necessarily set out after a gay clientele, but he was gay himself—while cheap bottled beer was easy to come by in and around Santa Fe, he knew there were few places for a queer to sit and feel comfortable feeling sorry for himself without spending eight bucks on a mixed drink, and he figured they had to go somewhere, they might as well come see him. Erik and Ashok had stumbled across The Crossing quite by accident in the middle of their Wednesday run, noticing a preponderance of half-naked boy cardboard cut-outs trying to s*x up Miller Lite piled behind their trash cans
