 Lafayette
proved difficult to leave. This is not to say we didn't want to leave.
We simply could not find the exit. We circled the small Indiana town
for forty five minutes before finding a road leading outward.
Our route on Monday ran north across Indiana and east across Ohio.
The scenery alternated between farms on the left side of the road to farms
on the right side of the road. Moving northward, Baptist churches
give way to Methodists and religious signs change to those against gun
control. Hand painted billboards in cornfields cry: "Gun Control
Increases Violent Crime EVERY TIME!"
 We
arrive
in Cleveland and check in at the Hilton. Across the street from our
room is a Methadone Clinic and down the street a parking lot is topped
by religious statuary. Jesus is positioned directly over the entry
and seems to beckon drivers to Our Savior of the Parking Lot. For
six dollars a day, your car will be protected by Mary and seven other Aryan-looking
saints.
Walking to dinner, we pass
an ancient cemetery with headstones dating to 1801. The night
is dark and fireflies fill the cemetery like hundreds of sparks floating
around the headstones. I haven't seen fireflies since I was a small
child and we watch the show for a considerable period of time.
 Restaurants
in downtown Cleveland follow a theme: The Thirsty Parrot, The Winking
Lizard and the Big Blue Fish. We choose the Winking Lizard for its
gay-appropriate name. Inside we find ten televisions above the bar
tuned to ten different sports channels, salads made entirely of iceberg
lettuce, and several customers with fresh mullets.
A Jeep pulls up to a stoplight while we are waiting for a walk signal
after dinner. The light changes and the driver pulls away, drives
two blocks, makes a violent U-turn and comes screaming back toward us.
He pulls up next to us and says: "Hey, where ya all from?"
A cloud of fruity cologne surrounds us and we know he isn't straight.
We have a short conversation in which Mr. Jeep punctuates each sentence
at least twice with "fucking ay". Neither Erik or I want a ride in
an open-top Jeep with a questionable local and he eventually drives away.
 The
sunlight floods our room along with the sounds of addicts arriving at the
Methadone clinic. We debate the merits of the
Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame, the Cleveland
Style Polka Hall of Fame (we are uncertain if "Cleveland Style" refers
to the polka or the hall), and the Cedar
Point amusement park. Cedar Point wins and we head to the metropolis
of Sandusky, Ohio.
We slather ourselves with suntan lotion and make our way through aisles
of buses and vans emblazoned with logos from religious groups: "Methodist
Youth for Christ!" "The Fire! Chapel Youth, Toledo Ohio!"
Admission to Cedar Point is $43.50 per person. I am tossed off the
roller coasters because I am too tall for the restraints. (I can
assure you this was never a problem in San Francisco!) Erik is permitted
to hurtle through the air as I wander the park and watch youth wearing
shirts covered in Bible verses.
Erik overhears the following comment from a teenager: "I saw a
Gay Pride parade, so I picked up rocks and started throwing them at them."
 Although
Cedar Point has yet to offer the Bulldozer and a Brick Wall Ride, we decide
we've had enough of the amusement park. I contemplate asking for
a refund as I've only been able to ride a single attraction. Rather,
I decide to savor the moment and write a tasty letter when I arrive in
Maine...
Perhaps it is time to open Sister Betty's Big Gay Emporium somewhere
in the midwest. Billboards along major freeways will declare:
100 Miles to Sister Betty's Big Gay Emporium! 50 Miles to Sister
Betty's Big Gay Emporium! Sister Betty's Big Gay Emporium THIS EXIT!
Outside, Sister Betty's Big Gay Emporium will offer multiple gas pumps,
tractor trailer, RV and minivan parking. Inside, an assortment of
rainbow and movie-themed items will beckon to weary travelers. Lurking
beneath the facade of clean bathrooms is a sinister purpose: the
recruitment of heterosexuals.
 If
homosexuality is a "lifestyle choice" then it is time to start recruiting.
Consider the benefits of being gay: more disposable income, better
neighborhoods, improved fashion, Sunday's free of both church and nauseating
sports events, no pressure from family and friends to produce offspring,
and never being asked to go the store to pick up female hygiene products.
Military recruiters cannot offer these benefits and they manage to convince
hordes of children to become targets for Iraqi snipers. Could we
do any worse? Besides, the midwest could use some queers to conduct
a makeover. Farms are lovely, but those silos could really use snappy
new color schemes.
Tomorrow
we head to Buffalo, New York and Niagara Falls.
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Gays Hops n' Schnapps
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Seagulls at Cedar Point, Ohio
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All you can eat perch
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Our Savior of the Parking Lot
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Grave of Joc-O-Sot
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Erie Street Cemetery
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Cleveland, Ohio
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Cleveland, Ohio
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Mural, Cleveland, Ohio
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Cleveland Skate Park
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Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame
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Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland
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Federal Reserve Bank of Cleveland
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Cleveland, Ohio
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