I wake up very startled. There are persistent knocks on my door. It is 1.30 am.

I look through the peephole, and it is my neighbor who moved in a few weeks ago and had introduced himself roughly 12 hours before.

I am quite panicked, thinking of all the good reasons why I shouldn't open the door. Was he drunk? ...He probably left his keys somewhere and needs to be buzzed into his section of the building.

Managing to convince myself that that was the only reason he would be standing at my door, I pressed the buzzer so he would just 'disappear'’ and I went back to bed. The knocking continues within seconds.

Now I really begin to freak out. What would I do if he had evil intentions? In the adrenalin rush, I tried to remember snatches of our conversation when we talked earlier...

"...I am French by origin, but I also became an Australian citizen... I moved to New York from Melbourne on a work transfer... I have been here in the US for just three months...I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one who lived in the building..." Laughter, "I don't get to see anyone...people here sure keep to themselves." More laughter. "It is so nice to finally meet a neighbor...I am in Apartment 3A...Please let me know if you ever need anything...!

"Oh my God! I should have known something was really wrong with him. All that wide smile. He had been just too friendly. I should have let my 'New Yorker instincts' kick in, instead, I'd reciprocated with a very naïve response... "...Oh sure, you too, let me know when you need anything... it was REALLY nice meeting you too...”

"Really?? How was I that stupid? Now, he thinks the door would be opened to him at midnight. Have I not learned anything from living in the Big Apple? We are not THAT friendly! Besides, how do I know his accent was 'French-Australian'? It did sound nice at the time, in broad daylight. But now, RIGHT now, I just couldn't remember what was 'cool' about the particular mixture.

5 minutes later...the knocks haven't ceased and he is still standing there. With great courage and an under-the-breath confession of all scriptures 'Protection', I started sifting through possible 'simple' weapons to arm myself with before I opened the door. I narrowed it down to my old rusty Wok Pan (with its impressive diameter of 28cm) and a shiny kitchen knife. Those would definitely suffice.

Safety chain in place, I finally opened the door a crack, and he said to me... “So sorry to wake you up...you left your key in the door..."

Huh? Oh, dear...OH DEAR!

I can't begin to say how foolish I felt... or how blessed I was.

After he left, I laid back down on my bed and berated myself for NOT inviting him in for a cup of tea. No simple "thank you" at this point felt sufficient.

I was very sure other neighbors had seen my keys dangling from the keyhole but were too 'New Yorker' to get involved in my business. Oh well, I decided to deliver a freshly baked loaf of my banana bread to him within 24 hours as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.

Anyway... Good neighbor? You bet!

UPDATE: We became good friends afterward. We shared great conversations over a couple of meals and I found out he truly is a gentleman. When he suddenly had to go back to Australia 3 months after I met him, I got to ‘inherit’ a good number of his barely used furniture and buy a few for a scanty sum. The items came at the perfect time because I also had to move, to a bigger apartment where every piece was essential. For one, I went from sleeping on a sofa/sofabed (for close to a year!) to sleeping on a lovely bed. :-)