Not Quite Music to the Ears

Everybody's different. I understand that. One man's garbage is another man's useless living room embellishment. Also, I think there would be credence to say that one man's (or woman's, to be fair) description of "pleasing" would not be the same as another's. However, there is something that I am fairly certain the entire population of the planet earth will agree is not pleasing. That would be: a fire-engine siren.


Now, I know that you will read this and say to yourself: "Okay, he's really reaching for a topic here," but I want you to think about it. This Tuesday is the 4th of July. And what's the most popular way to demonstrate one's patriotism? (Besides buying a car or a firearm) That's right: we go to parades! We stand (the smarter ones bring camp chairs) on the side of a normally busy street in the blaring July sun and watch a bunch of police cars and fire-engines drive slowly by. They do their best to keep you entertained by using you as target practice with small fistfulls of tootsie rolls, or they simply assume you want to be drenched and unloose their high-pressure water hose that is designed with enough power to make an elephant lose its balance. But even with that, I have no problem with our civil servants breaking up the monotony of their chosen profession with a little publicly endorsed civilian violence and mischief. The part that really miffs me is the fact that the firemen are under the impression that their sirens are pleasing to listen to. If you think I'm exaggerating, pay attention to the next parade; the firemen will drive tantalizingly slow and then blast their siren as if the city bank had spontaneously combusted. But I want you to look at the drivers' faces. Eight times out of ten, they will have the biggest grin on their faces that you've ever seen. They obviously enjoy the reaction of fifty thousand ear-drums exploding.


It makes me wonder what goes through their minds. The way I figure, one of three things is running across their anterior lobes.

1) A kind, gentle-hearted firemen (the kind we like to come when our fuse box explodes and sets the kitchen on fire) says to himself, "Look at all those little people out there on the sidewalk. They look a little bored. Maybe they're getting tired of the clowns scaring their children, or maybe they are confused as to why all the city officials are riding in cars that were recalled seventy years ago. Perhaps I can liven up their morning here." And with a cheerful, well-intended gesture, he happily blares the siren.

2) An evil, conniving firemen with a gold tooth and a fumanchu (The kind we normally avoid calling when our lives are in danger) says to himself, "It's so perfect. My plan is perfect! Things couldn't have worked out better if I hadn't planned them myself! Fifty thousand innocent bystanders shall suffer a massive migraine due to my presence and rush to the pharmacy for much needed pain killer, allowing me the time to sneak into the shampoo aisle and scratch out all the barcodes on all the shampoo! They will pay for what they did to my dandruff!! Ha ha!!" He will then display that same wide grin I mentioned earlier, and, with an inner triumphant whoop, blare the siren for ten seconds longer than any of the others.

3) A fairly indifferent firemen, who is there only because of the chance for free candy and popsicles, (The kind we also avoid in an emergency, for fear that they would enter the house and take our brooms and family portraits as souvenirs of his heroic actions) says to himself. "...............................Monkeys are funny.................These people are too..............Oooh! Flashing red button!" Then he will excitedly press the siren off and on repeatedly until a drummer in the marching band ahead of him turns around and throws a drumstick at his windshield. This particular incident is rare, but if it happens this Tuesday, can someone take a picture of it and send it to me? It has to be at that perfect moment where the stick hits the windshield; that way it'll have the driver's reaction in it as well.


I may be biased in my descriptions, but I know what it's like to be in a marching band in a parade. I know what it's like to be at least attempting to maintain a steady beat when a fire truck blasts your hopes for a decent song into the wind. (If there is a wind; if not, then it gets blasted into the thick summer air and dissipates into the distance)


So the next time you go to a parade and a fire truck goes by and shortens the life of your ears, just think to yourself, "Does he really have my best interest at heart? Because if that's his way of displaying his respect for civic duty, I'm going to sneak into the fire station tonight and let all the air out of his tires, just to show my support."