When I came to San Francisco from the Midwest, I was immediately shocked to see that the houses were built flush to one another, with no space in between. Not only that, but there was no front lawn either. I had come from Detroit, where we had a front yard, a back yard, and space on either side of the house. It seemed odd that the neighbors were so close. Let me tell you about my house below the fold...
My house is two stories, with no garage. (Having been built in 1917, unfortunately no one foresaw the future significance of garages.) There is no front lawn, and the house is built right next to the sidewalk. On the left side of the house, if you are facing it, there are two windows. The right side is the entrance to the house. There is one step to a small porch-like area, with stairs going down to the basement on the right side, a ledge in the middle (to keep people from falling down the stairs, no doubt) and the front door to the house on the left.
We had been living there for almost twenty years, and there were very few disturbances, since the neighborhood is considered relatively "safe". Sure, the kids next door sometimes climbed around a bit, and occasionally people would sit on the step, grocery bags at rest, catching their breath before continuing on to their homes.
One day, however, we came back in the evening and found a middle-aged woman sitting on the ledge in the middle of the porch. We were somewhat taken aback at this, and politely asked if we could help her. She replied in the negative, and explained that she was waiting for the bank to open. (There is a bank across the street on the corner.) We said the bank wasn't going to open until the next day and perhaps she might want to leave and come back then. She declined.
We walked into the house, leaving her right in front. What a strange feeling. I felt like my home was being invaded even though the door was locked. We waited several hours, but she didn't move. Finally, deciding that it would be impossible for me to sleep, and berating myself for feeling that way, I decided to call the police. I purposefully did not call the 911 line, instead opting for the regular line since it wasn't an emergency. I explained the problem and then waited full of guilt, hoping that nothing bad would happen.
Two police officers arrived, and I was happy to hear (from inside the house) that they were exceedingly polite. They asked if they could help her and if she might be more comfortable out of the cold. They offered to take her home, and whatever they said must have worked because they all left.
After that we decided to get a decorative iron gate to put across the front of the doorway. In a way I feel badly about it, even though it was quite a few years ago, but on the other hand, it makes me feel safer. Funny how that is.