stoop

A bright yellow sign beckons the sale of cheap fried rice and spring rolls around the corner from the spit-shined steps where they sit. The stoop is active tonight. Catchy hit songs from upstairs apartments, accompanied by high-pitch laughter, fill the warm night air. Beedz' fingers cling to the rim of a half-full solo cup, as he watches a group of walking advertisements, full of makeup and overpowering perfume, pass by. Group rating…zero, jokes Beedz as he extends the velvet ribbed hookah hose to the next eager hand to his left.

They have been coming to the stoop weekend after weekend for the last couple years. It is a place for them to unwind from the weeks of work, worry, and women. They talk mostly bullshit in between memorized verses that silence the silence.There is something special about those five steps. They meet all sorts of people, from homeless men grasping exposed 40 bottles to drunk underage girls stumbling home in high heels. They can stare at the missing stars above and transport their thoughts to the places that live inside their memories. They can replace the meaningless drama with equally meaningless insults. They watch in embarrassment for the unsuccessful parallel parkers who successfully keep them entertained. They excite the neighbors whenever the hookah is put into rotation. Is there beer in that?

Beedz is the self-proclaimed trendsetter, who is never deeply involved with anything. Benhoff is never seen with the same girl, in the same sense that Hydro is never seen with the same snack. Moses is known for living in his own time zone, always a few hours behind and disappearing without a notice. Quag speaks his own version of a romance language, full of giggity and game, that has yet to yield results. Turtle contradicts his name, as he cannot stand still, always wanting to make moves. Nothing seems to phase Xpo, as he sticks to the essence of hanging out; lounging and laughing. Leem seems to always make a fool of himself from the top step, where he controls the flow of static beats from the boombox. Shabby's senses navigate him from blocks away, towards the mint-grape tobacco; arriving at the perfect time for the puff, puff, pass.

The stoop is more than just a place to sit. It is where the block comes alive. It is a seasonal addiction that begins once the cherry blossoms begin to fall and the hood boys start to race down oneways on ATVs. The stoop is a small stairway of peace in a city that is never satisfied.