Walking

"Do gay men take lots of walks?" Harper asks in Tony Kushner's amazing "Angels in America."

This play was required reading for all incoming students my first year at NYU. We discussed it in depth during the first few days of orientation, as well as in class. We were also offered $10 orchestra seats to go see the production. Well, I was blown away. I was not familiar with theatre like this and for the first time in my life I realized that theatre could do something more than just entertain.

But back to the question on the table: Do gay men take lots of walks? Yes, Harper, they do. At least, gay men in the closet. Or, at the very least, this gay man in the closet.

I was electrified by New York and was certainly one of the many who couldn't sleep in this city. There seems to be an overwhelming feeling of desire that permeates the air of this city. Everyone wants something or someone. And I too was caught up in it. Mostly, I wanted to let the gay out but I didn't know how. So I took lots of walks. At night.

I was terrified to do anything but I wanted to be around gay men. The only way I knew how to do this was to leave my dorm and walk west on 10th Street. West past University Place and the drunken underaged NYUers. West past 5th Ave and my favorite view of the World Trade Center past the Washington Square Arch. West past 6th Ave and the beautiful brownstones, one that to this day, has a stuffed gorilla in the window with a big bone in it's mouth. West and then south on Greenwich past the big iron gates of the public library, half a block to Christopher Street.

Christopher Street, to this young boy, was gay. There was no way around it. It felt gay. The street right below this intersection is, in fact, Gay Street. This is where gay men went, I believed. I wasn't wrong. As soon as I hit Christopher my pace slowed but my head went down. I couldn't look these gay men in the eye. What if they saw that I wanted to be one of them? That I was one of them? What would I do if they talked to me? So I walked slowly, head down, letting myself feel what was around me.

The top of Christopher Street is fairly quiet and residential. There are a few bars and a few upscale stores. But then I would reach the huge intersection of Christopher, West 4th and 7th Ave. This is where the city was truly alive. I would walk past the screaming and laughing patrons of Stonewall, where I knew something important happened but I didn't know the details. I walked past the little park in the intersection and its white statues of gay men and women hanging out and being gay. I walked past the Duplex and the sounds of someone singing showtunes at a piano.

Crossing 7th Ave without looking up is next to impossible. I passed men in leather pants and vests with bushy moustaches and goatees. I wasn't that kind of gay man. I walked by drag queens who would hoot and holler at me and call me "chicken." Is it that obvious I'm afraid, I wondered. Not yet knowing that "chicken" has different connotations in the gay world. I walked by the many stores selling sex toys, videos, magazines and other assorted items of an erotic, exotic sexual nature. Did one need all of these things to be gay? Crossing Bleecker Street was like entering Oz. All of a sudden it was all gay, all the time. The atmosphere changed dramatically. Here, every other store was a bar. Men walked hand-in-hand. Music came pouring out of every open doorway. The sidewalk smelled like booze. And I was terrified.

One night I was just about at the Lucille Lortel theatre when a car honked and I unwittingly looked over. An older man, probably in his 50s or 60s, was driving a beat up, tan Lincoln. He had a thick beard, glasses and a blazer on. He could have been any one of my professors. He was driving very slowly, matching my gait. We made eye contact and he winked and began to pull his car over. I quickened my step and turned the corner onto Hudson and lost myself in the crowd. Again I was terrified, but also fascinated and exhilarated. Was I attractive to gay men?

One of the other exciting aspects of being in this part of town was being so close to the river. Feeling the wind on my face made me really aware of the fact that this was an island. But I had a long way to go before I settled it.