"Yeah, you blend."

I WAS WALKING DOWN my street, wheeling my blue grandma cart behind me. I had laundry with me, and was on my way to Up All Night Laundry.

Up ahead I saw this little firecracker guy who I’ve sometimes seen around the building. A month or so ago we’d ridden in the elevator together, and he’d struck up a conversation. At the time I thought he might have been on some upper, but since then, I’ve realized that’s just how he is. He was standing with two other guys I didn’t recognize.

“Hey, what’s up dude?” he asked as I walked past.

“What’s up,” I said, stopping and grabbing his hand with my left hand, still holding my cart with my right.

“What you up to?”

I gestured to my cart. “Going to do laundry.”

“Again? You went last week.”

“Yeah, but I do it every week,” I smiled and started to walk up the street.

“So how long you live in the hood, dude?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his enormous jacket and walking with me.

“Since August.”

“Alright, alright.”

“How about you?”

“I always been here. I used to lived in the Polo Grounds over there,” he said, pointing off towards Bronx, which didn’t seem like the neighborhood, but I let it go. “It used to be the home of the great New York Giants, but they turned it into projects.”

I nodded, not sure of what to say about that. We stepped off the curb to cross the street. “How long have you lived in the building?”

“Eighteen or nineteen years. I got friends there.” He paused and looked up at me from under his black hat. “You’re cool with me, dude.”

“Thanks.”

“You know how we do around here. You know how it is. You gotta do what you gotta do to make it.”

I realized he was talking about selling, and again, wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Things they don’t teach you around the pool in Connecticut. I let out a short little laugh, and just said, “Yeah.”

“What’s your name, dude?”

“Ben. What’s yours?”

“TK. I’ll call you TB for Tall Ben. Big tall Ben. I like that.”

I smiled. Usually I make some sarcastic comment when someone references my height, but TK was, you know, a drug dealer, so I let it slide. “BTB, right?”

We’d reached the laundromat. It was crowded. People were sitting around watching the flatscreens mounted high on the walls. It looked like there was a home improvement show on, which I thought was weird given we were in the middle of a city and I doubted any of my neighbors had a country house.

TK looked in, then at me, extending his hand. “I’ll see you around, TB. Be cool.”

Jay-Z - "Roc Boys (And The Winner Is)

The hood is distinctly less glamorous.