Evening falls over Sedom, and two angels arrive. The Hebrew of Genesis 19:1 says Lot was sitting "in the gate of Sedom." The Targum catches a detail the plain reading hides.
"Two angels came to Sedom at the evening; and Lot sat in the gate of Sedom. And Lot saw, and rose up to meet them from the gate of the tabernacle. And he bowed his face to the ground."
In the Aramaic, the rising is specifically from "the gate of the tabernacle" — tar'a d'mashkana, an echo of Abraham's tent-door posture a chapter earlier (Genesis 18:2). The Targum is telling us that Lot, living in the wickedest city on earth, has kept at least one thing from his uncle's house: he still runs out to meet strangers. He still bows his face to the ground. He still looks for guests at dusk.
The rabbis read this moment with real tenderness. Lot is not a tzaddik. He will shortly offer his daughters to a mob (Genesis 19:8). He will hesitate to leave a doomed city (Genesis 19:16). He will end his life in a cave in a shameful story. But in this one moment, at evening, at the gate, he does the Abraham thing. He gets up. He moves toward the stranger.
It is the reason, the Targum implies throughout chapter 19, that the angels bother to save him at all.
The takeaway: one habit of hospitality, stubbornly kept, can save your life when the rest of your choices cannot.