From Kevin Kinsella’s “Metropolitan Diary“:
Having just dropped towel in the menâ€™s locker room of one of the numerous branches of the Union Square-area New York Sports Clubs, I bent over to slip my leg into my underwear (charcoal gray boxer briefs, from Bloomies, of course!) when I noticed out of the corner of my right eye that someone had moved inappropriately close to my backside.
Rather than pause and cautiously await what would happen next, I quickly drew the shorts snugly into place and turned to find an older man, standing within inches of me. To my eye, he resembled what one would expect Frank Oâ€™Hara to look like today had he not been laid low by a Fire Island dune buggy on that summer night in 1966.
He was completely naked — naked and smiling, a combination that I found rather disconcerting given my surroundings and the early time of day (8:30 a.m.).