It's a beautiful day outside and I have thrown open my windows. (Okay, I opened them gently: throwing them sounds strenous and needlessly violent.) As a result, I do not have the white noise of my air conditioner to buffer the sounds of city living.
A quick rundown: right now I am hearing street traffic, a subway train passing on the elevated tracks, a jackhammer...and birds. I am used to all of this. Unless my attention is drawn to it, I don't really notice this soundtrack. I can filter it out regardless of the state of my AC unit.
But there is one thing I can't ignore: someone within a few blocks seems to have grown enamored of an air horn and is working hard to get his or her money's worth out of it. All I need now is for my bongo-playing neighbor, who is decidedly not Matthew McConaughey, to start practicing.
I've been hearing the air horn at odd intervals for the past two hours. When I ran (okay, walked) to the store, I heard it a couple of times but not enough to locate its source. The blasts are too intermittent for me to track down and kick the person responsible in the balls and/or vagina--in NYC, you can never be sure--or I surely would.
As for bongo boy: he should take up a silent instrument or start wearing a cup.
Labels: air horn, bongos, kathcom, Life without Feck, magick sandwich, noise, NYC, stupid shit