SUNDAY THOUGHTS: NOISE

From 3PM until 8:03 PM Sunday, a mayoral candidate's rally took place in the park across the street. It was an open air concert with taped and live music, in addition to guest speakers. 

The first song that came tearing through my closed windows and brick walls was "Blame it on the Alcohol". 

I finally got to sleep around 11 PM. 

At 2:35 AM, I was awakened by the sound of sanitation workers emptying dumpsters into their truck. 

Still awake at 2:39 AM, the sound of an ambulance heading up the street, probably awakened others in the neighborhood, too. 

At 3:00 AM, some random driver blew his car horn 7 times. Yes. I counted. 

I'm irritated. 

I suppose if noise is the worst of my problems, I should be grateful.

I woke up and wrote:

Some stuff has residue
Traces left over, after the real thing has gone
That you just can't get over soon
Can't seem to recover from
Some stuff has residue
It's designed that way
To leave you weak and confused
Feeling there is no way

Just ain’t no way

It's 3:57 right now. 

I feel as if I've been wrestling. 

I'm tired. 

My headache, as a result of the bass booming for hours, has subsided. I am now convinced that unwanted noise is a health hazard. Right now someone is sitting at the red light, and I can hear the music from their car speakers. Maybe it's to keep them awake. I don't know. 

I had been looking forward to a peaceful Sunday afternoon at home. The noise from the rally sent me rushing to the car to get out of my own home and neighborhood. 

I pushed in the CD that was in the deck. Anita Baker asked, "What's wrong with you?" I wondered that myself, Ms. Baker.

I was so irritated, and on the verge of tears over noise.

I drove downtown near the Tidal Basin, then past the National Gallery of Art, then to 4th Street into SW, and back across the South Capitol Street Bridge. I kept going south on the freeway, and took the National Harbor exit. I stopped for gas, visited with my Dad briefly, then headed home around 7PM—thinking that the noise in my neighborhood would be over. It wasn't. 

A speaker was on a very good microphone, telling "all ya'll round here" why we should vote for a certain candidate. Then he announced the next act to perform. 

I couldn't find a parking space, so I drove around the block again. Fortunately, one opened up right in front of the gate by the time I returned. 

Once inside, I grabbed some headphones and found some white noise videos on Youtube. At one point I had the headphones on, and a pillow over each ear. There was no escaping the banging, and booming and screaming. There was nothing musical about any of it. Even some of my favorite songs were played, and they may as well have been the sound of a jackhammer on concrete. The noise was inconsiderate and intrusive. It was so loud, the event may as well have been taking place in my living room.

Yes. People have rights to do all sorts of things that other people are left to endure. I suppose I could have called the police, but there was police presence on the grounds of the rally. It was all perfectly legal. 

I don't think people realize that what they do outside affects someone's atmosphere inside. There was no buffer; no way to abate it. I was forced to hear what I neither chose, nor would have chosen to hear. It was forced upon me and every other person in the neighborhood, whether we wanted to hear it or not. 
The floor and windows vibrated for a little over 5 hours. 

I feel like I'm in recovery. 

It's 4:28. I'm going to try this sleep thing one more time. 

I do believe I'm getting old. I used to hear elderly relatives talking about their bad nerves, and what their nerves were too bad to endure. 
I get it...