the east harlem down low

I was out until 4:30 last night and walked the block from the subway to my apartment with a healthy amount of trepidation, enough that I would notice if someone were walking too close behind me. That block of street was fine, as always (except that one time a homeless man hit me with a newspaper, but that was in broad daylight), except that when I got to my building and went to put my key in the door, I could see through the glass that, in the dark of the stairwell, two young Mexican men were, shall we say, enjoying each other's company.

I was startled, took my key out of the door, waited a moment, and the men got themselves together, opened the door, and I jetted right past them up the stairs.

One of the men might have been the guy who lives on the floor below me, where he and his wife have numerous children. I'm not sure of it, though, so I'll refrain from using my Naughty Spanish book to tell her "Your husband really likes him some chorizo, hmmn? Wink wink nudge nudge, know what I mean?"