"I was in those San Francisco bathhouses in the late 1970s," says James Hartline, an HIV-positive Hillcrest man who is campaigning to get San Diego's three bathhouses shut down. "Those bathhouses were a big part of the generation of the gay scene in San Francisco. They represent everything that the gay community is about, which is sexual liberation with nobody telling you what you can and can't do."
Next to their airport brethren, the average San Diego city cab driver has it tough. They hope for calls from their dispatchers, and when they answer those calls, they hope the fares are still there to be picked up. Often, the cabbies have to pick up their fares in crowded areas, with no place to maneuver safely or park legally.
It's not even noon and already I'm closing the blinds on the south-facing windows of my home office. That pesky natural light is overrunning the glow of the lamp by which I work. Too much of a bright thing.
On a sunny afternoon in June, Mark Davis is peeling off the top of his wetsuit after taking a swim at La Jolla Shores. Unlike many beachgoers, Davis's tan is of little if any concern to him. "I honestly don't think it's that important to get a tan. I like a natural tan, but tan people who overdo it can look hideous, especially an artificially brilliant tan. “
These smugglers tell them, 'Within a couple of hours across the border, you will be in a vehicle on your way to Chicago,' or wherever they want to go. We hear that every single time. In reality, it is two, three, four days later, and they are still walking in these remote areas without water and, in winter, without warm clothes."
On a recent Friday night at 11:00 p.m., a lone policeman sits in his patrol car watching from 50 yards away a group of souped-up cars in the Target parking lot on Balboa Avenue. "It looks like they're gathering," says Johnnie. Fewer drivers race on the streets these days. But on any given evening, says Johnnie, races can materialize in several areas of town.