I do not like loud people. Let me amend that. I do not like people but really don’t like loud people. I think that’s more accurate.
When they’re speaking to me I find myself not listening. As a matter of fact, I have a trick to accomplish that wonderfully. I call it ‘going EBS.’ What I do is play that annoying sound heard on TV and radio in my head to cover whatever they have to impart in any very verbally annoying fashion.
But this woman, who was not speaking to me so, I’ve been told, I can’t slap into silence, was amazingly loud. I’m talking I could not only not hear the person sitting right next to me, I couldn’t hear the television even though the bartender kept turning it up.
I wished she’d stop that. I felt the loud lady took it as a challenge.
But the sheer volume of her speech was not the most annoying aspect of this woman. I’m sure it was her belief that everyone, up to and including any unlucky children that slipped shell-shocked from her womb, not only needed to hear her words clearly and distinctly they needed to hear it across the street. In a house. Under the cone of silence.
The most annoying aspect was her laugh. I’ve been at many live, loud concerts; I’ve been around weapons that make noise; I’ve been in a glass and tile room when a starters pistol went off and let me say that none of them have lingered in my ear for a longer period than this woman’s laugh.
And motherfucker did this woman LOVE to laugh! At non sequiturs. At random nose bleats. At vowels. She’d laugh in the middle of her own words. She’d laugh then laugh at her laugh.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Have you ever heard a seal bark? Have you ever heard a seal bark while getting fisted by a manatee (please, don’t tell me manatees don’t have fists. Trust me, that’s much gentler than what I was going to go with) while a herd of crabs dangles from it’s gentiles?
Add some distress to that cacophony and you’re coming close to what it was like to be in a room with that woman.
For whatever deranged reason (maybe the ears of those closest to her have clogged with blood) she decides to focus her attention upon, guess who?
I’m being asked by my friends to be nice. Do you know how often I hear that request? Often enough so it doesn’t bother me. Nor do I fulfill that request most of the time.
I’m assuming this will be one of those occasions.
She looks at me then asks,
“Don’t you ever speak?”
If she only knew I’ve been doing the longest, filthiest version of The Aristocrats over the last six hours with her as the main character.
I look her in the eyes and shake my head no. This seems to enrage the beast. I didn’t think it was possible but it was, my hearing friends, she got louder. My eyes watered.
“Holy fuck! Would you please stop making sound? You’re the harbinger of deaf!”
By her reaction I think she preferred Silent Chris.