A Night at the Café (Part One)

In the mood for some excitement, I hopped on the F streetcar en route to the Castro. The only destination I had in mind when it reached the terminal was finding the place with the most male eye candy. (Being around gay people isn't an issue for me, since my awareness of homosexuality dates back to my teen years, when I went to high school in Hell's Kitchen and attended college in Greenwich Village.) After checking out a few bars and seeing one male couple hold a make-out session as if no one else was around, I found myself in front of the Café.

For two dollars, I watched two men use a pool table as a dance floor and observed a man in a wheelchair partying to his heart's content. (You had to be there.) Cheap admission usually means early arrival or early closing, and I was disappointed to learn that nightlife in the city shuts down at 2 a.m. Fortunately, a stranger named Greg came along to hold my interest.