I grew up in a small town.  Very small.  So small that there was no crime to speak of.  People didn't lock their doors when they went out, on their cars or their homes.  It just wasn't necessary.  And to alter a familiar expression:  You can take the boy out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the boy.  It was years after leaving home that I finally got into the habit of locking up.  But I never developed the kind of xenophobic paranoia that lots of people have.

Case in point, my neighbor Tiffany.  (Tiff, dear... if you're reading this, know that I'm going for the humor... please take it accordingly!)  Now, she's never lived alone.  Her adult life, she's always lived with someone, usually a boyfriend, but at the very least, a female roommate.  Currently, she's alone.  And her paranoia is heightened.  Like this past evening, for example...

I'd agreed to meet a friend for dinner at 6:30.  At about 6:00, just about ready to leave, my phone rings.  "Are you home?" Tiffany says in a whisper.

I want to say, You called me at home. I answered the phone... what do you think?  Instead, I say "Yeah. What's up?"  

She whispers, "There's a guy out in front of my door. I don't know him."  

I'm thinking, Yeah.  So answer the door and find out who he his and what he wants.  But I can tell she's scared, so I look out my peep hole.  Sure enough, there's a guy there.  I can see the back of his head.

"I don't like this," she says.  

Now, I'm not sure what she wants me to do, exactly.  So I say, "Hold on," and put the phone down. Then I go outside. "Hey," I say. "Looking for someone?"  

He turns, reaching under his arm, and pulls out something that makes my stomach knot.

Oh, shit!

It's a Sacramento Bee.

"I'm already a subscriber."  Four little words would have shut him the hell up.  But no.  I don't think to say that.  Instead, I say, "I read it at work."  A fair lie. But not a good lie.  

"You work seven days a week?"  

"Yes" would've been a bad lie.  At least I have sense enough to realize this.  "Well, no," I say, then proceed to sidestep all his arguments, as he deflects all my objections.

It's a solid, and I do mean solid, three minute pitch.  And in case you didn't know, three minutes is a looooooong time to listen to a sales pitch.  He eventually resorts to pity. "You don't wanna help me get my trip to Lake Tahoe?"  

Lake Tahoe is two fucking hours away. Get in your damn car and drive up there.  "I do, but I'm not gonna.  You're very persistent.  Good luck."  

He leaves, rather abruptly.  I go inside and get back on the phone.  "Boy do you owe me big time."  

"I didn't know you were gonna go out there!" she says.  Well what did she want me to do? Just stand there staring at him through the peep hole?  

By this point, I'm going to be late for dinner, so I tell her I'm about to leave.  "You are? Me, too! Can you wait just a second and walk me to my car?"  

Jesus.

"Sure."

A minute later, we're on the landing between our apartments.  "He knocked, and I thought it might have been you, so I said hello," she explains.  She locks her door.  And the deadbolt.  Tests the knob.  "When I saw it wasn't, I got scared."

I told her I understood, even though I didn't.  I'll never understand that level of paranoia.

Three steps down... "I locked my door, didn't I?  I locked my door?"