Chicago was wonderful. As I mentioned it had been over 10 years since I had been back. I spent my 20’s there- Studio apartments and dive bars are fun in your 20’s at thirties its a little tired, at 40 it’s downright shameful so I was fortunate to move on. I was amazed at how much the city had changed and how many of my ‘old haunts’ had disappeared- O’Rourke’s Pub- which was a great dive had disappeared, the building where I worked at 444 Wabash was still there but the office was now an empty space. Life can move pretty quick, although in not having been there in 10 years it could move l slowly and still make quite a few changes. There was a corporate park that was built while I was there- I used to eat my lunch on the benches when it was new- now bums lay sprawled out – each bench occupied- garbage on the once highly maintained lawn. I even saw a building being demoed that I watched being built.

I called my two cousins that still live there. When I first moved to Chicago I stayed with Chris- and later, when his sister moved to Chicago she lived with me. They both have stayed. We were close before Chicago but became very close living in the same city. After I left we all went through our own things and grew distant- I hadn’t seen either on of them for many years. I was glad to reconnect with my cousins and for Kelly to meet these two people that were so important in my life. We have a family vacation in Michigan at the end of July and they will all be there. I think it was good to see each other before all of that.

Kelly and I had only one little spat. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but I’m a singer. Actually every one in my family are singers. Why would that cause a spat? I sing when I’m in a good mood- and as I walked down Michigan Avenue late in the evening with the street full of people I sang a little song. This, it turns out, annoys Kelly to no end. I think its endearing, she thinks I look crazy- and when one is tired it’s difficult to suffer the songs of crazy. In my defense…

Chicago is my kind of town. Chicago is- my kind of town. Chicago is -the Wrigley building, Chicago is -the Union stockyard Chicago is-one town that wont let you down, it’s my kind of town.

After college I moved to Chicago to begin my adult life in the working world. I did not actually have a job. My major was in sociology and my grades were pretty bad but that didn’t get my spirits down, I knew that with my can do attitude and cursory knowledge of sociology I could land a fine job with many perks.

I began working at the gay video store about 3 weeks after moving to Chicago. The perks included free video rentals and since I didn’t have a VCR they also let me lug home the rental VCR which came in a huge plastic suitcase and weighed about 20 pounds.

Specialty Video and Audio wasn’t actually a gay video store- it was a video store that happen to also carry gay porn in a part of town called Boy’s Town, across from a bar called “The Closet” and a block over from another place called “The Manhole”…ok maybe it was a gay video store. Have I mentioned I’m not gay? I’m relatively thin, neat and I like (dare I say, adore?) musicals so every once in awhile I like to interject that I am, in fact, not gay.

I easily moved up the corporate ladder to become assistant manager…and no, you little perverts I did not sleep my way to the top, I didn’t have to- they could spot my can do attitude, problem solving skills and desperation for 25 cents more an hour.

Everyone else that worked at the video store was gay (we have established that I’m not gay, right?) and they gave me the endearing nickname of “Breeder”. It was a bit of a misnomer as I don’t recall doing much ‘breeding’ at all back then. I had not yet met a woman with a can do attitude that would allow me to prove my heterosexuality on a consistent basis.

The women that did come into the store were lesbian. A nice enough group when sober but a treacherous mob when coming out of The Closet on a friday night. It seemed that every friday night I had to listen to the same slurring lesbian and her lover angrily explain the problem with the “painfully obvious MAN produced girl on girl porn” that we rented. “It’th a beautiful thing.. two woman” one would belch at me as her girlfriend held her steady. They would rent “On Golden Blonde” and stagger out arm and arm.

As the Assistant Manager I probably should have defended our gay films (I was at this point calling them films and not movies) but the real life lesbians scared me. The ones that frequented The Closet were a rough and tumble bunch that were quick to fight when liquered up. I can only assume that kicking the ass of heterosexual male would make for a good story around the old lesbian campfire and my self esteem had been battered enough.