The Stoop. It is a New Orleans tradition that is so ingrained within the neighborhoods where stoops are prevalent. It is a "porch" of sorts, the concrete patio at the front door that is the resting place for many an evening conversation, and morning cup of coffee, a cool bed for a well-fed dog, and many many more activities.

Stoops also add character to the already eye-catching houses in New Orleans. They are social gathering places, and they take on a character all their own sometimes.

My friend Sean's Mid-City house has a most unusual stoop. His landlady, who is very crazy but sweet, decided one day that the concrete needed painting. So she went to the hardware store and bought many cans of aluminum-colored spray paint. Sean awoke to the smell of carcinogens and the rattling of that damn little ball in those cans. He opened the door, shook his head as he watched this old lady steadily spray-painting his beloved stoop. Once it dried, it had the complexity of the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz.

She even did the flower pots.


Sean's Stoop: pre-aluminized...

Lately Sean has been forced to go to a dump site to locate a new door for his car. The passenger side door had been struck by another vehicle, making it impossible to open. He finally found another door, but as the car is white, the door is not. In fact, when I saw it, the new door had a shade of the aluminum color that now coats his stoop. His landlady has commented that the rest of the car would look good if it matched the door. Sean is convinced one day his car will be all aluminum-colored, with hundreds of spray cans discarded around the vehicle. The anger will be great, the color choice for his vehicle will be awful, but in the end it will be yet another stoop story...

Another Mardi Gras night we were drinking on the stoop, up on Bienville Avenue. The fellas across the way were making all sorts of Metairie racket, and my friend S. Mitchell decided to confront them verbally from across the street. Next thing I knew there were 7 guys heading to the house.

Well, I lived in New Orleans long enough to know what was next. And a quick trip to the closet to get out my old reliable, a 16-gauge pump with BuckShot loaded, a quick rack of  the pump, and tempers were diffused. They would never have known the first round was tear gas I acquired from some of the SWAT guys that shared our station house at EMS. And I'm glad I didn't have to use it.

The stoop is the best room in the house for most shotgun homes. I have slept on, drank on, peed off of, and generally lived on the stoop on hot nights and cold days both. It is a passtime we all enjoy.


Saints fans made the Museum steps across from Soldier Field an unofficial stoop before the game.