"You got da' key??"

It's about 6:30 PM.  Just making it back from another day in the Corporate machine.  It's cloudy, but there is still sun breaking through the clouds.  Enough sun that allows me to get away with wearing sunglasses for a little while longer.  I'm standing in front of the 21 story Project building I grew up in.  I've got a black summer sports jacket on, pants that match and a blue, button down shirt.  Got my trendy messenger bag strapped to me; it's trendy but it serves a purpose, I'm not just wearing it to look cool.  It's waterproof, it's got a space to slide my computer in to and I can also store my gym clothes. I'm just sayin'.  I look like a serious person.  I don't exactly feel like one though.  My neighbors are trickling in from work as well.  They greet me with admiration, I can see it in there eyes and in their manner.  Partly I suppose for being of the few who made it out of here; these projects....but I'm back, for now anyway.  I'm chatting on the phone with a buddy of mine about this and that; greeting this neighbor and that neighbor in between my conversation, "How are you?" and "How's yours Mom" and "Nice to see You." My buddy jokingly mocks me for taking the time to say hello, to it seems everyone that walks by.  A few moments pass and  through my sunglasses, and while I talk, I spot an elderly Junkie approaching my building.  He's rockin' an old beat up baseball cap, his grey fro' wildly sticking out of it; his clothes are filthy.  He makes it to the magnetically locked door, Its thick bullet proof windows forever cracked and asks me politely, "You got da' key??" The sound of his voice is muffled by his missing teeth.  Although my not subtle body language told him; don't look at me, don't talk to me, he took the chance and asked anyway.  I shook my head NO, ignored him and continued to chat away on my phone.  He knows I have the key, my NO said a lot.  Like a 6 year old that's just been scolded, this elderly junkie slowly puts his hands in his pockets, leans up against the fence and begins to patiently wait.  Waiting for an opportunity when he can sneak in and get his fix from an apt of the building I grew up in.  From the building where my Mother lives, from the building where all my lovely neighbor live.  A few moments pass when another neighbor comes by, one I've known since I was a child.  She doesn't have her key.  She spots the homeless junkie man, smiles at me and asks in Spanish, although she speaks perfect English, "Tiene la llave??" (do you have the key?)  I smile, reach in to my pocket and say, "Si, claro.." ( Yes, I do ).  As I begin to unlock the door, I ask the Junkie a question I already know the answer to.  Although I look like a seasoned corporate Man, "The hood," that manner, naturally comes out of the tone of my voice when I speak to him, "You live in this building man??" The Junkie in a gentle voice responds, "No Sir, I'm visiting somebody..." I respond assertively subtle, in crisp English, "Who are you visiting?? What floor??  He cautiously approaches the door, his head down as I pierce my eyes at him through my dark sunglasses.  I lose interest ( it's like trying to stop a flood with my bare hands, it's useless ) as my buddy on the phone questions why I'm interrogating people?  Why am I interrogating this person who wants to enter my building??...hahah  I chuckle.  His question is funny to a person who's grown up around this kind of dysfunction.  He doesn't understand.  You'd have to live it.