High Society on the Mag Mile

I'm sitting in the Starbuck's on Division/Dearborn in Chicago and they're playing "I Love You, Samantha" from 'High Society.' Ah, a latte and a little Cole Porter. It's lovely. How lame does that make me? And do I really care?  Super lame and no, I don't. 

It's 47 degrees here. I saw people wearing gloves on Michigan Avenue! Pussies. I chose to put my hands in my pockets like a real man. Well, actually, like a real lesbian. For years I have observed that approximately 9 in 10 lesbians always have their hands in their pockets. Trust me.  Take it to the stereotype bank.

The Shan's new life officially begins this Sunday as I am move into my apartment. For the first time since Feb., I will have a permanent mailing address and a bed of my own. So long, Oak Lawn! Onward and upward.

PART II

Hours later at Starbucks on Clark/Belmont (hey, I paid $10 for one day of internet access, I'm getting my money's worth) and I am surrounded by a group of about 10 big, black drag queens. I wonder if I could teach them to sing, "I Love You, Samantha."