An actual hand written sign
in a dark, dark, dark doorway
on New York
's Lower East Side (Second Avenue, west side of the street between Fist and Second Streets)
a piss infested
doorway to be sure; on a hot day if the wind
was blowing the right way you could smell it from twenty feet or so away. Most folks - myself included - would rather cross the street than pass within sniffing distance of it. It was that bad.
I always maintained it was bum-piss
, since everyone knows that bum-piss is the worst
My sensible girlfriend
, ever quick to correct me, insisted it was from the alcohol
charged frat boy
s who had been out raising hell
in our neighborhood
before heading back home to Mommy and Daddy
s place on the Upper East Side
. Her idea did
make more sense
than mine, but I wasn't convinced.
Anyway, the fucking doorway
I used to ridicule
the sign, noting that anyone who would piss on someone elses home couldn't read at best, and at worst just didn't give a shit.
But I was wrong
In about one month
was gone! Maybe it was a miracle, maybe it was the rigorous and daily application
, I wasn't sure!
My girlfriend smugly insisted that everyone
had a sense of social responsibilty
; that nobody
was beyond hope. There was a chance for ANYONE!
I thought it had more to do with the rowdy Hells Angel (Luis! A great guy and 'howa doing dude?' if you're reading this!)
building management hired to kick the living shit
out of anyone pissing on tha door at night.
Just my opinion, of course.