Boom Boxers

I simply don’t get angry. Never have. 

Well, admittedly there are a few exceptions to the rule. 

Child abuse. Animal abuse. The wholesale practice of Abortion in America. 

And a distant 4^th issue, (but near and dear in terms of its frequency in my own life)

… rude and/or irresponsible drivers.

And among the “Left Laners” and “Bumper Huggers” is another example which vies for first place on the list of traffic offenders,

“Boom Boxers”

I ran into one today. Well, since we’re talking about dastardly drivers, I should quickly add, not literally.

I was on my way back home from the post office when I decided to stop at the grocery store. I’m a sucker for fried chicken, potato salad and coleslaw. We must have it at least once a week, or the world would implode.

At any rate, as I exited my car, this 90’s model Suburban-style truck comes rolling up in the street adjacent to the sidewalk, and Spanish music, which easily rivaled the combined decibel level of four 747 engines, permeated sky, human and animal epidermis, trees and cement walls for five square miles in all directions.

Well, I never pretended to be perfect, and I admit there are those very rare occasions in which I have been known to lapse into a “Jesus with the Whip” mode. 

In that crucial moment when I might have chosen to do nothing,

… I did something.

I cast my dubious eyes in the direction of that hulk of a dilapidated truck, and accomplished a two second survey of my “victims.” A young Hispanic man, his wife and toddler.

And then, … and then I flailed the whip right and left, and showed no mercy. 

Again. Not literally. 

But I conjured up all the wherewithal within me, and found myself competing with the music.

“Turn that stuff down! Nobody wants to hear it!”

The young husband responded with a shrug, as if he couldn’t hear me. (Ya think)? I shouted a similar phrase, (minus any 4 letter words, of course) went into one of those “Caesar in the Coliseum” modes, and turned both thumbs towards the sidewalk; as if to say, 

“That ‘entertaining everybody who doesn’t care to be entertained’ thing just isn’t cool.”

Well, at this stage I proceeded on my merry way into the grocery store, and had no idea whether he was coming or going, nor whether I would see him again.

I admit it. I’m biased. Perhaps the word is ‘prejudiced.’ Not against Hispanics, mind you, nor any other minority, or majority group. Nope. I’m biased towards, (for lack of a better phrase) ‘healthy hearing,’ and prejudiced against any purposeful thing which would impede it.

You see, I suffer from a condition known as Tinnitus. I experience chronic ringing in the ears. Well, more like the presence of a thousand male crickets wooing a thousand females of their species. 

As a member of the Army National Guard I once walked behind a 105mm howitzer which, unbeknownst to me, was about to send an explosive shell hurdling through time and space. I can tell you it took several minutes to regain my hearing. (Good thing I walked behind, and not in front of it)!

And if I weren’t a glutton for punishment, I sat behind a United Parcel Service engine for twenty years, and for my valiant efforts, I was rewarded with the loss of hearing in one ear, (and of course, the condition I previously described).

 I simply don’t get angry, but in this case,

… I have an ulterior motive.


By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 26. Copyright pending

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