The Scoop from the Stoop..

As you know, there is always something interesting going on in my hood.... and the mayor of my hood Snake is always ready to be photographed, for a small fee, of course... LOL!

So one bright sunny Saturday evening this summer, I decided that I was going to jump in my car and go to the gas station. I wanted to gas up my car and put a little air in my tires so that I could go to the early Church service the next day. If there is one thing I just can't stand, it is gassing up in the morning when I'm trying to get somewhere.

So I get in my Zoom-Zoom and head down the street towards Hen-Dog's and Tiny's house. I notice them sitting out on "the stoop", just chilling. Tiny's Mustang doors are open wide, radio blasting music. I slowed down and spoke to them.

"What the heck are ya'll doing?"

They both looked at me. Hen-Dog shrugged. "Just chillin', listening to some music. Where you going?"

"I'm going to get some gas and put some air in my tire."

"Alright, later."

I let up my window and kept it moving.

I came back some 15 minutes later and they were still sitting out there on "the stoop"... just chilling.

"Ya'll still out here?"

"Yeah! Still chillin'." Tiny yelled.

I frowned. It was getting dark outside. They really needed to move closer to the house.

I drove on up to my house, some 4 houses up from Hen's house.

Now, "the stoop" is the rock retainer wall in front of Hen-Dog's house It is the area in front of the black iron fence in front of his house. It is a good spot for viewing all the illegal activity that occurs on the cross street next to our street, without getting involved. Let's just say, if we have to break out running, we can. If someone starts shooting or fighting, we are far enough away from the corner to get the hell on into Hen's house if need be.

My first experience of seeing some craziness jump off while sitting on the stoop was when Snake cussed out an unruly prostitute for questioning his integrity. I hadn't even moved over there then. I just happen to be an Hen-Dog's house.

But this day, I was bored as all get out. Around 9:00 pm that night, I looked out my window and saw Tiny and Hen-Dog down the street, sitting in the same spot...

Just chillin...

Like I said, I was bored, so I grabbed a quart of bottled water and walked down the street and hung out on the stoop with them.

All I know, the corner was a bit hot that day. There was MUCH activity going on that night....

...MUCH.

First of all, several prostitutes live in the blue house on the corner. They all seem to have moved in last spring or something. And, as you can imagine, there is a good amount of traffic around their place.

Why, LadyTee and I were standing outside my house one day and heard one of the prostitutes yelling

"P**** for sale, P**** for sale... "

*crickets*

*LadyLee and LadyTee standing in the middle of the street, slack jawed and speechless, not believing we'd heard such a proclamation*

That woman was just a yelling, all out in broad daylight, like it was no big deal.

Goodness.

Well, that night, while hanging out with Hen and Tiny, I saw a lot. The drug dealers were running up and down the street, holding up their oversized pants, trying not to trip up over their t-shirts, retrieving goods from the dope house, which happened to be two house up from my own house...


No one paid us any attention though. We were sitting there, on the stoop, BLASTING Nancy Sinatra's "These boots were made for Walking" and "Bang, Bang" along with other bizarre music.

Negroes playing that type of music in the hood from a hot sound system must be a bit, I don't know...

Touched... Special...

Especially when Hen and Tiny were jumping around during the playing of "Nancy Sinatra's "Bang, Bang" yelling "Man, that song right there is HARD. That song is HARD!!!"

Yeah, just looking at us, you would thingk we were a bit off. Best to be left alone.

Most notably, one of the prostitutes that stayed in the blue house on the corner was putting in quite a bit of work. She would stand on her front porch with a hand on her hip, smoking a cigarette, waiting on customers. A car would pull up, she'd jump in the car and they would drive off.

She'd return approximately 10 minutes later.

Well you know me... I was FULL of questions.

"Man, what is she doing in 10 minutes time?" I asked, after seeing her exit the fourth car.

"She is doing something oral." [Note: Not exactly what was said... I'm just trying to keep it clean, ya'll.]

I winced, took a long drink of my water.

"Man, how much money ya'll think she makes for 10 minutes? She gots to be making a good 100 dollars each time. She gotta be."

Both Hen and Tiny looked at me like I was crazy.

"Naw LadyLee, they make 5 to 10 dollars."

*Crickets*

*LadyLee looking at them both with a raised eyebrow, wondering how the heck THEY know the oral prices*

"Man, you GOTS to be joking! Stop playing!"

Hen shook his head. "Lee, do you realize that these are Zone three hos? Ain't nobody comimg down to Zone three to pay 100 bucks for a hooker."

"Shoot man, I gots to be making a good 100 bucks a pop each time. You realize how many men she have to do to make 100 dollars? Ain't no way, man. Ain't no way."

"Girl, they trying to make enough money for that next hit of crack, and that's it," Tiny yelled.

"Still, that's some craziness."

But is it?

I must confess that whenever I see a prostitute, I always think back to a sermon I heard some 6 years ago at the church I attended when living in New Orleans. And it wasn't one of those sermons putting down prostitution...

It was a sermon about judging people.

My pastor at the time said something to the effect of, "You know, it's pretty jacked up for you to turn your nose up and criticize a prostitute. You don't know the backstory that led her to that point in her life. You really don't know."

Now, I thought he had a point. Because, really, you don't know. I can't imagine someone, as a young girl, having the goal of someday being a prostitute.

But he went on to say something else. "And a lot of you ladies have had a man leave a little cash on the nightstand after he spent the night. Yeah, that is a bit similar to prostitution. You didn't think of it that way. You just needed some money to feed your kids, right?"

I remember the whole congregation being quiet that day. No jumping, no shouting...

No Hallelujahs.

Just quiet...

It made me think back to when I was in grad school, and I had a boyfriend who came in late from the club and decided he wanted to, um, bother me for a little loving. I told him that he'd been at the club, and I wanted to get paid just like them stripper broads get paid. I mean, I was the one screwing him. They were just dancing. If he wanted to do it, then he was going have to pay me.

"You serious, Lee?"

"Hell yeah!"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "How much?"

"20 dollars."

"Are you serious?"

"Hell yeah!" I yelled, getting all hype. I was wide awake, then. I was broke and I needed the cash. I wasn't getting my monthly stipend for another week.

He nervously pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet, folded it, and gave it to me.

Let's just say the Oldgirl put in work that night. A LOT of work.

I woke up the next morning, all excited to see the 20 dollar bill on the nightstand. I believe that was a Sunday morning. That money was very precious to me, and I made it last the whole week, using it for gas for my car, for bus tokens, for food.

I stretched that 20 bucks.

Meanwhile, my boyfriend was nervous all week.

"Lee, I cannot believe you got all giddy over 20 dollars."

"I needed it. And if you wanted to get it that night, you were gonna have to hand over the cash."

He was quiet around me for awhile after that.

I think about that everytime I see a prostitute these days, but I've never told anyone.

Especially after that sermon. My pastor went on to say "Did you ever think about the woman's backstory, how she got into being a prostitute?"

I never had...

Was it from a decision she made? Kind of like the one I made that day back when I needed a little money to make it to the next stipend check?

Hmmm....

I realize that it ain't all that great to judge folks. I mean, we don't know the backstory, the hardship... especially if it is a stranger. We all got family members who got over into triflement and what not.

And I am a firm believer that, some years ago, two or three bad decisions could have us all in a bad spot, doing some things that we would never dream of doing.

I didn't tell Hen and Tiny that I was thinking all this when we were watching the prostitutes work the corner. They would have laughed, and I would have laughed right along with them. Because people who know the person I have grown to be today wouldn't believe such a story...

But 'tis true.

So, I don't judge the chick standing on the corner doing her thang. I'm not sure what happen to get her there. In our hood, it is safe to assume a drug habit of some sort...

But we all know that assumption is the lowest form of human thought.

So as I sat there on the stoop that day, listening to crazy music, sipping my bottle water, singing with my friends...

Watching the prostitute wait patiently for the next customer, the ember of her cigarette glowing brightly, and her flicking spent ashes into the bush next to her door...

I realized...

I can't judge you, lady... I can only wonder at what point in your life did you jump that hurdle in your mind that made you decide that that lifestyle was the only way to go...

And I'm a bit more careful to judge myself, earnestly trying to make sure I don't jump those same hurdles in my mind.

Humph...

Just a thought...