Some seriously macho-looking guys in leather congregated around two bars, Badlands and The Ramrod. It felt like the after party for gay pride, but it was just a Wednesday night in spring.Īt the end of Christopher, we walked to West Street. I'd never seen anything like it: Gay bars with blaring disco music, the street so full of gay men that cars couldn't get through. He parked the car near Sheridan Square, and we walked down Christopher Street. He borrowed his sister's Oldsmobile and drove me into Manhattan. My buddy Mickey, a nerdy, goofy Jewish guy who lived near me in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, decided to give me a tour of where he hung out when his family thought he was working late.