Noise In Rye?  What Noise?

noiseI was on the platform at the Rye train station, when I met my friends George and Eunice with their luggage rolling carts.

“Where are you headed?”  I asked.

“New York City,” George said. “We want to get away from the noise.”

“Noise, what noise?” I asked. “Rye is a tranquil seashore community. The loudest sound you hear is the squawk of seagulls.”

“Not where we live,” said Eunice. “There’s a construction site across the street, and we hear the chipping, hammering, and drilling of rock all day long. And next door they’re taking down a tree, and there’s the buzzing of an electric saw and the screeching of a stump remover.

“You forgot to mention the leaf blowers,” George reminded her. “They sound like a fleet of helicopters landing in our backyard.”

“I get your point,” I said.  “But why do you think you can escape to New York?  It’s one of the nation’s noisiest cities.”

“We just need a break,” said Eunice. “We’re checking in at the Marriott in Times Square, having dinner and taking in a show.

A few days later, I met George and Eunice at Playland Market. George had dark circles under his eyes. I asked him about their getaway to New York.   

“It was terrible,” George said. “We didn’t sleep a wink. There was an all-night card party in the room next door, and as if that wasn’t enough, the NYPD had cornered a robbery suspect, and a dozen squad cars, with sirens screaming, converged on Times Square right under our window.  Now I know why they call New York the city that never sleeps.”

“So what’s the solution to the noise in your neighborhood?” I asked.

“Ear plugs,” Eunice replied as she pulled a pair from her purse. “$6.99 at CVS.”

— Sol Hurwitz


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