hampden doorbell

i've lived in several neighborhoods here and there in my thirty some odd years, and have found that each neighborhood has its own protocol as to what is considered normal behavior. the city of baltimore, in itself, is quirky and unique. but even moreso are the odd working class mix of faces, however configured by the nature and nurture circumstance, here in hampden.

one of the area's finest is the one we know as "the urban pirate." he and his hairless head are always wandering alone along the neighborhood streets. once the temperature hits 55degrees, he is surely not wearing a shirt, but rather clutching it in his right hand as it beats time on his denimed leg with the left-right of his neanderthalithic gait. his skin is deeply darkened by his love for the sun and resembles a texture and orderliness somewhere between a bulldog and the ripples of a soft-serve ice cream cone. his heart, however contradictory from his appearance, is pure, i am certain. a misunderstood urban pirate.

the real purpose for this post was to be the title, the hampden doorbell. as within this riddled neighborhood, at any hour of the day, visitors to a home will simply roll up outside and toot-toot their horn for recognition of their arrival. now, yes, this happens in every neighborhood, i understand. but we are talking about every 45 minutes in hampden. seldom do you see drivers or passengers exit their vehicle to physically knock-knock on someone's door. a driver will honk-honk, sometimes up to 10 minutes awaiting a head to poke out of the sought-after's door. a local custom that i wish not to manifest. in the words of the urban pirate, "aarrrgghh."