The entrance to my place is a door with a single step, sandwiched between storefronts. This little alcove calls to many as a smoker's safe haven, a homeless man's home away from home, a cell phone user's telephone booth... and I love it. Every stoop sitter is an opportunity for me to display my superhuman ability for kindness. Nothing is more satisfying.
I'll come home from a hard day's work or easy day's Chinese food pick up and see the stoop serf upon my door. I'll take out my key ring and smile with secret satisfaction at the inevitable interaction:
Me: This is me.
Stoop Dweller: (hurriedly standing) Oh sorry.
Me: No worries. You can have it right back. I just need to get through.
The shock on their faces when they realize who I am... the utter embarrassment that I should catch them sitting on my foot bridge... the humility they exhibit whilst collecting their belongings with eyes downcast... the surprised relief when I grant them stay as long as their horses need resting...
I am a person above geographical boundaries and status. I am understanding, patient, and full of ease. On a hot day once, I gave the homeless man a glass of water and a bag of peanuts. All I need to do to change the world is walk out (or in) my doorstep. I am benevolence incarnate.
And for this the dicks leave empty cigarette packs and fifths of cheap rum.
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