Summer in Chicago can be brutal, and nowhere seems hotter than at the station waiting for the A train. The only good thing was the amount of sweaty, bare skin on display. I pass the time man-watching, until one of them catches me.He's a cyclist and stares back at me boldly. Fortunately, we end up in the same train car. When it empties out, I make my move, hoping to add a more pleasurable heat to an already boiling day.