In the Long Dark Tea Time of the Soul, by Douglas Adams, there’s an unfortunate soul who is, unbeknownst to him, a Rain God. Therefore, all these happy, lovestruck rain clouds follow him giddily around, which, of course, only makes the poor guy more miserable.
I, apparently, am the Noisy Person God.
Yesterday, on the peak hour commuter train, I had the misfortune of sitting in the same car as 12 kids, 4 adults, all on some sort of family outing. Beef #1 - whether it’s reasonable for me to feel this way or not - kids on the peak trains drive me nuts. Wait half an hour and go on the non-peak. Again, I admit that this might not be reasonable of me, but that’s just how it goes. At any rate, even if I were to find it ok, it’s definitely NOT ok for them all to carry on at the top of their lungs. I’m not exaggerating, folks. All 16 people were shouting back and forth to each other across the car - the reason I know there were 16 was I had to listen to a headcount 4 times as they tried to figure out their numbers at the highest decibel level achievable by man. I, as is my custom on the morning train, was asleep when this horde of people descended on the train like a cloud of locusts on speed. Obviously, that didn’t last long. If you’ve ever been in a school cafeteria at the beginning of lunch time (that is, before they’ve all started stuffing food in their mouths) then you know the sound of which I speak. It was constant, nerve-grating, incessant, LOUD chatter. There were 3 different games of “Johnny Whoops” going on.
If you don’t know Johnny Whoops, you’re lucky. But let me just describe what I heard.
Johnny Whoops, Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny Johnny Johhny Johnny Whoops Johnny Whoops Johnny Johnny…
Three times over, superimposed.
In screeching 12 year old girl tones.
For 20 minutes. I was ready to break some fingers just to watch the game change to Johnny Whaa.
The adults were no better, and made zero effort to control the crowd. The train was pretty full by that point, so I really had no choice but to sit and suffer. Grrr. By the time I got to work I was nearly unfit for human exposure.
But I got through the day without hurting anyone.
So then there’s the ride home. I checked carefully to make sure that there was no gaggle of kids - or indeed, any kids at all - in my car and I took my seat. I tend to pick the “3 seaters” because this greatly minimizes the chances of having to sit directly next to someone, and this night, I was in great luck. I had the whole bench to myself, and settled in for a nice, relaxing, quiet ride. I had chosen the express train for the fact that the first stop isn’t until about 45 minutes into the ride, at which point people only get OFF the train, and not on. Perfect. 20 minutes into the ride, the nap that I had been robbed of that morning offered itself again, and I drifted pleasantly off to sleep.
30 minutes into the ride, the doors to the car open and in walks a man with his two kids. Now the 3 seater bench in front of me is also occupied by one person, furthermore, there’s a set of benches that faces each other - seating for 5, with only one person in it. However, apparently my reward for being the Kind and Benevolent God of Noisy Children, is that the man decides his two kids should sit next to me, and he should sit in the two seater bench across the aisle - and two rows forward of me. Where the HELL did he come from, 30 minutes into the ride? They clearly had a place to sit in the not even half full train - so why on EARTH did they suddenly decide they had to sit next to me??
Which makes it amazingly comfortable for him - HE doesn’t have to sit there and listen to his kids arguing over who’s farther ahead in their respective books, or who reads faster, or whose book is more difficult to read. He doesn’t have to listen to the highly irritating sound of his daughter snapping her gum, or his son kicking the support post for the seat. HE isn’t the one getting whacked with a book because one kid decided the other kid was trying to steal it from him. No, that was all for me to indulge in, trapped on the train ride from hell.
I’m not a mean person. I’m not, by any stretch, a violent person. But if I am the God of Noisy Children, then I’m gonna have to start demanding sacrifices.
So last night I bought myself a Walkman. It was either that or something much less pleasant.
