I just chased two junkies off my stoop! This is, as they say, not that kind of neighborhood. Plus this block has something like four active and former cops living on it.
I'm sitting here writing about drug legalization in my basement office, and I hear two guys outside the window. One goes on my stoop. I go upstairs to investigate. I see the cap comes off a water bottle and I see a needle about to come out of a sleeve.
Mother fucker! The SOBs are about to shoot up! I haven't dealt with junkies at my door since I lived in Baltimore (when I stepped on a load of crap one of them left and somewhat routinely had to deal with junkies shooting up and drunks pissing in my alley).
I open the front door to get the element of surprise. I know the heavy screen door is locked and secure, but they don't know that.
"You will not do that shit on my porch!" They're kind of apologetic, but not really. They make some faggy comment, perhaps because I'm standing there in my underwear (hey, it's hot!).
Dumb ass New York native white guys, for what it's worth.
Gets the adrenaline flowing, that does. Something as simple as that.
This was "my" alley in Baltimore:
It was fun to write "violators will be arrested" when I actually had the power to carry through on that threat personally!
I wasn't the only person who lived there. But I was the only person that had to take a small alley off of an even smaller alley to enter his house. I lived on the second floor and my only entrance was off the rear porch... to an alley, that connected to another alley.
No, I couldn't subscribe to a newspaper or get mail service. Pizza delivery was out of the question.
But it was a nice apartment and rent was only $300/month. I also had the world's best landlady, Miss Mary. She lived downstairs (with the front door). I'd make her spankopita and she'd leave regular shipments of paximathia and koulourakia (delicious Greek cookies).