"I should have brought some flip-flops," I mumbled to myself as I peeled down to nearly nothing.
I was surrounded by 18 members of the Chicago Fun Club (CFC), a diverse group of folks dedicated to enjoying life completely bare-assed. The club's organizer, Steve, 35 (members requested that last names be withheld), greeted me with a handshake, a smile and absolutely nothing else on. And there I was, naked but for my Sketchers and stone-cold sober, getting the once-over from a roomful of nudists.
