Tom of Finland, old photographs, ancient carpeting, cracked paint. The bathhouse was straight out of the 1970s. Hallway of Bath HouseĪfter signing a document that I would follow all club rules (yeah right), I grabbed my key and towel and excitedly entered. Let’s just say this place would rank a level 10 on the nasty-scale. To ask for the grungiest at this place was redundant. Chomping away at my gum, I excitedly exclaimed – “the grungiest.” There are two bathhouses here in Chicago. “Room preference?” – asked the cute 28 year old Latino working the desk. Soaring from vodka and red bull I was on a mission to get the hottest, the biggest and the most. As I walked to the bathhouse I was giddy with anticipation. And the attention of hot men was as big of a high as the vodka I drank or the crystal meth I smoked.
The “chubby” gay dude was no longer chubby.
