(First published in The Dominion Post, July 25.)
I AM AWARE that what I am about to write will result in me
being branded a cantankerous misanthrope, and possibly even a bit mad. What the
heck.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve noticed myself developing a visceral
aversion to noise. Not all noise; just certain noises.
Some sudden, intrusive sounds provoke what I can only
describe as an involuntary, irrational rage.
I swear, for example, that if I had a machine gun, no boy
racer would be safe. In my wilder flights of fancy I picture myself lying in
wait to ambush them. I would shoot first and worry about the consequences
later.
In my mind I replay the famous scene at the end of Bonnie and Clyde in which the outlaw
couple’s Ford is left so riddled with bullet holes that it looks like a
colander.
The practical problem I have to overcome is that boy racers
don’t provide adequate warning of their approach. I might hear them doing
drifts or donuts in my street at 2am, but by the time I got to the gate with my
Uzi they’d be away and gone. But boy, I think about it.
Steady, droning-type noises, as opposed to loud, abrupt ones
that come out of nowhere, don’t seem to bother me so much. At weekends, planes
come and go constantly from the local aerodrome, but I never feel tempted to
launch a surface-to-air missile from behind the potting shed.
Motor mowers are acceptable too. All New Zealanders are
genetically programmed to have a high tolerance of lawn mowers, otherwise we’d
all go mad.
Chainsaws are more challenging. I live in what must be the
chainsaw capital of the world. In other towns, kids get skateboards and X-boxes
for their birthdays. In Masterton they get a Stihl or a Husqvarna. And I mean
girls as well as boys.
Chainsaws are part of the aural furniture here. There’s always
one revving somewhere in the middle-distance. I accept this is one of the
prices you pay for living in a rural town where everyone knows the price of a
cord of macrocarpa, but I sometimes struggle to contain my irritation.
Constantly yapping dogs? They’re almost up there with boy
racers on the vexation scale. The same goes for motorbikes, whether they’re
Harley-Davidsons – which are engineered to announce their presence to everyone
within a 2km-radius – or trail bikes, which are the 250cc equivalent of an
infernal mosquito buzzing in your ear.
Even the blackbirds in my garden drive me mad with their
raucous alarm calls every time I go near them. That may sound a bit extreme,
but the squawking of a startled blackbird is a sound calculated to rattle the
nerves.
Tuis, on the other hand, are winningly euphonious,
demonstrating that it’s not noise in itself that’s offensive, but the type of
noise.
I’m on a roll now. What else?
● People eating in movie theatres – and not just their noisy
munching, which is bad enough, but the infuriating rustle of the bags
containing whatever rubbish they’re consuming. Rustling bags are another of
those sounds that induce homicidal impulses. The Uzi solution might be a bit
extreme in this instance, and there’s always the risk that you might hit the
wrong person in the dark, but a Taser might do it.
● All-night parties, especially ones where all you hear is
the tuneless thump of bass and drums. The politician who promises to throw
all-night partiers into prison without the time-wasting formality of a court
appearance is assured of my vote.
● The unnecessary use of car horns. The horn is a device to
be used in situations where human life is in imminent danger, and then only
sparingly. (In other words, there should be a lightning-quick assessment as to
whether the life at risk is worth saving.) All other applications are a crime
against humanity – and there are no exemptions for morons who get an infantile
thrill from tooting in the Mt Victoria Tunnel.
● Cellphones with idiotic ring tones. Phones that sound like
phones are acceptable at a pinch, provided the volume is kept down. Phones that
play Greensleeves or the theme from Beverly Hills Cop are beyond the pale.
Am I being flippant? Well, perhaps with regard to shooting
people – but otherwise, not entirely. Most intrusive noise is avoidable. The
people who cause it show a lack of consideration for others and a disregard for
their privacy. We should all be far less tolerant of it.
1 comment:
Good post Karl.
One of my pet hates - people who leave their cellphones on their desk at work and then wander off.
The phone *always* rings, it's always at 100 decibels and it's always impossible to turn off.
The phone is *mobile* for a reason. KEEP YOUR BLOODY PHONE WITH YOU!
Arrrgh.....
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