My Hajj to the Castro: Like Everyone, I Gotta Check the Gay Ghetto

greetings-from-the-castro
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I’m in San Francisco. There’s a certain draw I cannot deny. It pulls me toward it. I must go.

It’s like a religious mecca. A pilgrimage I must partake in. A place I must go. A destination I must visit. And no matter how straight-acting or butch or bi or Republican or whatever you claim to be, when you hit this area, you feel the draw to go there as well.

The Castro.

This weekend, I shall go there. I’ve been there once, so long ago. I recall standing upon a manhole cover and taking a photo of my booted feet upon it with the word “CASTRO” in the heavy iron. Lo, about 17 years later, I go back, a much more mature man, now much more confident in myself, much more “out” about myself and much more myself.

Mecca lecca hi, lecca hidie ho.

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