South Florida 2025 - Sunday Funday

 I went on the trip with what I call my Beach Bros. We spend much of the summer months at Chicago's gay beach, 4 blocks from my apartment. During the other months we meet up for lunches or dinners, I sometimes treat some to visits at the Art Institute, a couple months back we celebrated a birthday at the indoor pool area of the building one lives in. They are part of the family one chooses, as opposed to the families you are born into. One of the BBs moved to Ft. Lauderdale several years back, unwilling to brave another Chicago winter. Plans were laid to meet up with him and his husband, who he met in Florida, for dinner and a nightclub visit on Sunday. 

Having the luxury of a rental car my condo mate and I decided to get a day pass at a Ft. Lauderdale gay resort and hitch up with the others later. We registered and paid the modest entrance fee to the young, tanned desk attendant clad in tiny, tight white trunks and a skimpy black tank top. It made me wonder what he wore to the initial job interview. 

By late afternoon the heat exacerbated by the concrete around the pool area had begun to get to me. I discovered a small garden area off to one side where the greenery and shade gave me some respite. Another lovely orchid, which would have fetched a nice sum at a garden center at home, protruded from a tree. 

Later we made our way to the restaurant where we were all to meet. It was gay owned and operated. Rainbow lights, paper lanterns and gay male employees abounded. Ironically our server was female. The party arrived in groups of 2's and 3's. Hugs and kisses were exchanged and we shared a delightful meal. 

We moved down the street to one of Ft. Lauderdale's gay clubs, located in a strip mall, known for it's Sunday "tea dance". We wound our way through the throng outside. As we entered, Gloria Gaynor's, who, incidentally, I once sold a ring to at an airport jewelry kiosk, I Will Survive was playing at an eardrum damaging volume. The musical selections did not improve as the evening wore on. Watching the dance floor from an gallery above I texted home that we were at a gay bar and it was 1978. ABBA came on, complete with video. I cringed. Looking down at the dance floor I realized that fully half, if not more, of the patrons were not even born when this music was popular. Others, some ill advisedly doffing their shirts, had been born, like myself, many, many years before it was popular. Musically the 70's were a challenging decade.

The walk back to the car took us through a neighborhood which contained a mixture of midcentury tract homes and McMansions. The oversized homes, built on midcentury tract home lots, all but abutted each other when two had been built next to one another. Instead of entries these ego reflective edifices contained spaces that looked like hotel lobbies.  

Amid the sometimes austere gardening the front yard of one of the midcentury homes was festooned with spotlights displaying a multitude of playful colors. We assumed gay folks lived there.