Am I unreasonable? Don’t answer that. Rather, consider this one case.
My wife and I are up here in Ogunquit, Maine, having dropped a pretty penny to stay at a glorified motel with beachfront rooms. Here, as proof, is a picture of the sun rising over the Atlantic, this very morning, taken from right in front of our room.
This week is some sort of special week here in Oqunquit, and as part of the festivities they held a “lobster dash”; a five mile race up the beach and back, which started at 8:00 AM in the morning, the timing dictated, I assume, by the tide, which was very low at that point. Now, I have nothing against runners, I actually ran cross country in college and was reasonably good, but I couldn’t stand the pain so went back to swimming, and was unreasonably bad, but for some reason enjoyed it.
But I digress.
At 7:40 in the morning, or thereabouts, we were treated to the amplified strains of the Star Spangled Banner, apparently marking the beginning of the race. The speakers were located more than a quarter mile from our room, but no matter, the sound was as clear as a bell and incredibly loud. Apparently, this being 9-11 and all, one playing of the world’s most unsingable song was not sufficient; they played it again about 10 minutes later. Then, they began playing music, loudly and incessantly. The only people not subjected to it were the actual runners who were, presumably, out of earshot once they ran a mile or two, although, to be fair, it may have been loud enough for them to hear the whole time.
After about half an hour my wife and I decided to complain. We didn’t expect to get satisfaction, but figured we would feel a little better for venting. I suggested to the fellow in charge that he was imposing a bit on people who had every reason to expect to enjoy the pleasures of the calming ocean noises, for which they had paid dearly, rather than loud blaring music. I also pointed out that the music, consisting of third rate country, sucked, which added insult to injury. My wife pointed out that she had been trying to sleep. He pointed out that they only did this once a year, which we didn’t feel was a particularly cogent argument, since we only come once a year. As I said, we didn’t expect satisfaction, but by some miracle, they did turn off the music, from which, along with other indications, we concluded that there were other curmudgeons who resented having their vacations ruined.
Hence my question, was I (or were we) unreasonable, or do people have the god given right to blast loud music at everyone else anytime they desire, which does seem to have become a custom in this country. Is there a time and place for everything, or is every time and place for anything?
Here are some participants in the race. By the way, the winner came in suspiciously far ahead of everyone else. He was either a world class runner or a male Rosie Ruiz.
Digressing further, a few more pictures. Once the race was over, the kite fliers took over. Apparently, they had no need for musical accompaniment.
We took a cruise to the Cape Neddick Lighthouse in the afternoon. If all of the pictures every taken of this Lighthouse (purportedly the most photographed in the world) were stacked on top of one another, the stack would certainly fall over. But if it didn’t fall over, it would reach the moon or some other improbable height. But that didn’t stop me from adding to the pile, at least metaphorically, since my pictures were composed of pixels.
The cruise we took left from Perkins Cove, went to the lighthouse, and returned. The coast of Maine between those two points is littered with houses that are incomprehensibly large. If proof were needed that we are in another gilded age, that stretch of coastline would be Exhibit 1. I don’t know what people do with houses as long as a football field. This is an example of a medium sized cottage. Had I been thinking of blogging about this subject I would have gotten some shots of the big houses.
We really do need to start taxing these people like we did in the fifties. So many of our problems would dissolve.
Thus endeth this rant, which I freely admit is without structure or theme. But I’m on vacation, even if it is only a mini-vacation, so I do not feel compelled to maintain my usual standards, as low as they may be.
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