There are many reasons we moved to Chicago. Listening to young, straight, white females scream at the top of their lungs while walking through Boystown is not one of them.
I don’t like the fact that the gay community is a tourist attraction for some. I find it insulting. We are not zoo animals. We are not to be observed in some natural habitat. Honestly, Boystown is not a natural habitat for me. I feel comfortable being gay anywhere, but I don’t feel comfortable when some young woman, looking like three pounds of sausage crammed into a one pound bag, screams “look at them kissing!” She is referring to two young men outside of a bar on N Halstead.
As I walked by, tackily clad in Army boots, and doing my best Xena look of dissatisfaction, I said “simmer down, Prunella.” I was prepared for argument. She stopped screaming.
I went home.
What’s odd is about 10 minutes earlier, a drunken man staggered into me, fumbling his way toward Belmont. I said to him, “easy there, Prunella”.
Apparently everyone is Prunella tonight.
