I get it: Fire Island is historic and means so much (to some people) that it has its own new rom-com. I know some gay people who think its bucolic beaches and party atmosphere are paradise.
But I am not one of them. I have no interest in schlepping by train, bus and ferry to stand in the corner at a gay beach party that I feel I’m supposed to like because I’m gay and live in New York.
Not interested. We exist. That’s why earlier this month I headed in the opposite direction of Fire Island, geographically and experientially.
My destination was New Hope, Pa., and Lambertville, N.J., waterside towns separated by a bridge and a state line, but joined by reputations as L.G.B.T.Q.-friendly spots.