The Sounds Of Silence
Once in a while I read about someone who is accused of some crime, and as a result is under house arrest.
My first reaction is:
I love staying home. As I write this, it is Saturday afternoon, and I could go out and do a dozen nice things. But I am sitting in my den (which my husband calls The Room With The TV) alternating between my computer and my book and my snack – and really, who could ask for more?
But once in a while we all must leave the house.
And this week my husband and I made our annual pilgrimage to New York City.
I actually like New York. I like it in the summer. But we always seem to go in March. It is not a pleasant time to walk around New York. This year was particularly bad. Bitter cold and snowy – with slippery sidewalks and slushy curbs and everyone else hogging all the cabs.
Well, to say we hardly ever leave our home is an understatement. It is not exactly a big trip to go from Connecticut to New York. But I go so seldom, that as soon as we crossed the state border, Gmail and Twitter immediately shut me off with messages that some evildoer was trying to access my account.
This couldn’t possibly be you, the internet declared, because this usage was detected 59 MILES from your HOME!
But it was really us. We arrived at Grand Central Terminal, which is my favorite building in the whole world. Not that I have seen very many buildings in the whole world. But I think even world travelers must think that Grand Central is pretty special. It is so nice we can eat and shop there and we never really have to go out to the actual slushy messy street. And the ceiling has a constellation too, so you are almost outside anyway.
We were totally exhausted after such a long trip… 59 miles to the train station after all, and then that long one hour and twenty-five minutes train ride… I mean, who wouldn’t be exhausted from that kind of crazy travel? So we ate at Grand Central, shopped a bit (at Grand Central) and then checked into the hotel.
We prepared for a wonderful restful night – a true recuperation from our grueling wearying trip.
Only THE NOISE!!!
We have owls at home. We can hear them sometimes calling, “Whooo? Whoo?” in their mournful tones.
But what is with the honking cabs? They aren’t calling “Whooo? Whoo?” –
They are yelling:
“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!”
All frigging night!
There is no end to the honking, beeping, tooting. Fast, slow, high-pitched, wailing, bellowing.
All for no reason I can fathom. The streets are wide, flat, straight. What are all those cabs screaming about? Will the other cab drivers create an extra lane for you if you scream loud enough?
My town is quiet. My town is civilized. My town is polite. Why just two weeks ago, I had an actual occasion that warranted that I beep my horn as warning. Only it had been so long since I had last honked, that I couldn’t remember where the damn horn was located. By the time I found it, the threat had passed.
My husband and I did not sleep at all. It was like Grand Central Station at the hotel.
Actually it was Grand Central Station.
We stayed at the Hyatt, right there at the terminal.
Thank God I am home.
By the way: This week, Amazon is offering the Kindle version of my novel, “Just What I Always Wanted” for only 99 cents. You too can stay in your nice quiet home and read. You’ll thank me.