Beep! Beep!

 

As I live not too far from an intersection, I hear it all the time.

Horns. 

They can happen at basically any hour but it's mostly a 9 a.m.-9 p.m. phenomenon.

Admittedly, even as a lifelong New Yorker who frequently drove into the city, I don't get it. It didn't matter which boro I was in (except Staten Island, they're too nice there).

Oh, I know. People are in a constant rush. Yes, so am I. There's always somewhere I have to get to.

But it takes a lot for me to honk my horn.

As I sit  -- be it on the deck, in my bedroom, living room, Sean's room, attic, front porch, wherever -- I hear it in all forms.

Squawking. Belching. Booming. Squeaking. 

Trucks. Cars. Motorcycles.

Heck, we've even had a good old-fashioned "ahooga" horn go by. It sounds phenomenal on a vintage car and I admit I marvel at that one.

The others? No.

Again, I don't get it.

You see if someone doesn't go as soon as a traffic light turns green, I will wait a beat and then I will actively count to 10. Literally, I'll count out loud before I'll even consider hitting my horn.

I've grumbled and growled as people who don't know they can make a right on red coming off Exit 3 of northbound I-95 just sit there. 

But I don't honk.

Every time I think I'm this impatient jerk I'm reminded of things like this.

So, yes, I'm a jerk. I'm just not as impatient as I thought I was.

It doesn't seem worth the effort and aggravation. I mean, one thing we should all realize is we simply don't know who is in the object of our angst, and why agitate anyone like that simply because they didn't go at a four-way stop?

Is that worth it?

Or is it simply the behavior of an overworked, spoiled, entitled world that expects the sea (and cars) to part for them?

I realize there are most certainly appropriate times to honk a horn. I mean, how else was I to celebrate Jason Giambi's 14th inning grand slam against the Twins on a rain-soaked night back in 2002?

As I listened on the radio, there in the middle of an empty Taconic Parkway, I let fly.

But, seriously. Of course, there are more rational times to hit that horn.

Getting mad at a too-slow-for-your-taste Honda Accord at a blinking light doesn't seem like one of them.

So, what's the recourse? No, I'm not asking if we're supposed to go for full anarchy of road rage.

I'm also not charging down to the Greenwich Police Department to get a cop stationed at the offending intersection.

But I am truly curious.

The more likely option is that I'm -- again -- a jerk and this is just bothering me. In other words, suck it up.

Moving here didn't mean we'd be listening to crickets at night. I hear cars on 95 roar by at literally every hour. I hear trains -- Metro North, Amtrak, and freight. I hear cars on the local streets as well as pedestrians strolling by.

Before you ask, no, "inside voices" are generally not used, regardless of time. As a society, we've sort of lost that common sense.

I hear bicycles and skateboards and everything else.

There are hours that are quieter than others but there's almost always some kind of a hum in the air. I can deal with it and have adjusted to all of it.

It's a symphony.

But the horns.

They're the ones who make me the foulest.

Mostly because it's pure obnoxious impatience.

And unnecessary.

And I'll have to get over it.