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Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Closed Gates

My apartment building is set between an alley and a street. Five yards behind our wonderfully cute building, catty corner to the southwest edge of my apartment is our flat-roofed, cement-blocked, smells-like-mold garage. The garage door opens into the alley. On the northwest side of the garage is a small hinged gate in the chainlink fence. It is the border between our wonderfully cute yard and the alley. It is not even wide enough to fit my bicycle through.

On this gate is a large “KEEP OUT” sign written in white letters on a black background. There are four people who live in my duplex, and none of us have much occasion to use this back gate, as we either drive out of the garage or walk out the front into the street.

So it’s bothered me that every time I come home, this gate is open. And every time I close it. Why? Because (despite the name of this blog) I like the neat orderliness of closed gates. Every time I come home, though, it’s open again.

It’s the same with the middle gate, which divides our garage and back yard from the edge of the apartment building. Always open, though I always close it. This one bothers me less, though, because I feel it’s a superfluous gate in the first place.

But there is also the same mystery with a third gate — the secondary (versus the primary) front gate. Always open, though I always close it.

It’s a mystery that’s bothered me for weeks. Is someone playing tricks on me? Are drug addicts taking a stumbling shortcut from the alley through the yard and into the street to escape the demons that chase them? Are wondrously hot and musclebound balladeers coming to worship at my window at night, and I’m missing them?

Yesterday, the mystery was solved. As I was getting ready for work in the morning, brushing my teeth while dancing in the dining room, I heard the middle gate clatter as someone opened it.

I froze and looked out the window. In a second, I saw the top of a girl’s head as she walked under our windows, which are about 7 feet off the ground. She walked through the yard like she walked down any city sidewalk — like she owned it. She walked with the walk of most high schoolers at 8 a.m. — like she was in no hurry to get to school.

I thought about yelling something at her out the open window as she walked by. As my face would have been about 12 inches from the top of her head, I’m sure it would have scared the piss out of her.

However, my mouth was full of toothpaste and foam so that wasn’t very practical. Instead, I let her pass and exit into the street. Of course she left the gate open.

This morning, the same thing happened. I heard the gate clatter and looked out the window. This time, though, it was a high school-aged boy who walked by, his head wrapped in a white doo-rag. He exited our yard where a friend waited for him on the sidewalk.

Tomorrow morning (if I wake up early enough), I’m going to sit at the green metal table in our back yard. Hidden from view until they are already well onto our property, I’m going to shock these sleepy students with my presence and a loud “Hello!” And, then I’m going to explain that, while they disregarded KEEP OUT signs and are walking on private property, I’m fine with that. I, too, appreciate efficient shortcuts (though it would have been nice if they asked first). But please, close the damn gate.

Posted by Aaron on September 21, 2005 1:33 PM