So my Oldsmobile and I are sitting at a crosswalk waiting for the mass of students to finish crossing the street. We do this often, my car and me, especially now that students are back in classes. I don't really mind waiting, and I get a little extra time to think about my job hunt and what I might have for lunch.
But then, I am startled out of these thoughts by the little lady in the car behind me. She and her big bug glasses have decided to honk the horn. I immediately start looking around to make sure that there is no incoming danger. I mean, horns are intended to be used as warning devices, right? And who knows, there might be a huge truck about to smash me, or there might be a pedestrian that's decided to walk into the side of my vehicle. Maybe Godzilla is coming and I should exit my car.
Are any of these the case? Nope.
Captain Blonde behind me has decided that the only warning she needs to issue is to her friends, who were also minding their own business on their way along the crosswalk. She waves happily and they sort of half-wave and keep walking. I start fuming and become impatient with the pedestrians blocking my way.
The next day, I'm driving home from work, and my Oldsmobile and I are enjoying a red light. A horn sounds. I immediately start looking around for the source of the danger. Everyone knows that the intersection I'm sitting at has been the site of at least a few crashes. All the other motorists around me are either sitting still or looking around for the same danger. I look up into my review mirror.
Would you like to guess what I see?
That's right, a petite little brunette with very large sunglasses waving to the one pedestrian brave enough to cross four lanes of traffic.
Let the guy cross, lady. He needs to concentrate!
Now, I'm not just picking on you popular girls. It's good that you have friends, and women wearing big glasses aren't the only ones who like to love their horns.
The other night, I'm lying in bed with my partner. It's about midnight on a Friday. I know that I should be partying, but I'm just too tired. I manage to get to that nice fuzzy place between consciousness and sleep where nothing at all happens. Then a gentleman in a two-door coup decides that the red light and the car in front of him just aren't going fast enough for his liking. So he lets out a honk and I jump back into the land of the awake.
The light turns and he leaves.
A few minutes later, another car, whose driver was not visible from my apartment window, blasts down the street, laying on his or her horn along the way. My partner is now awake and neither of us can find any danger worth honking about.
What's the point to all my stories? The horn is not a Hello Button.
It isn't a toy either.
Honking might be necessary when that very large truck is trying to merge into your lane and you can't adjust your speed or change lanes. It might also be necessary when that guy on his cell phone slammed on his brakes in front of you. It might even be necessary when you're going straight at an intersection and some jerk turns left across your lane.
The horn is not necessary when you see Joe from science class or Jeanne from English. It is not necessary when you just feel like making noise. It's not necessary when you feel that you're too important to be sitting at the red light.
So please, good temporary citizens of Athens, be aware that not everyone enjoys your horn the same way you do. If there's no one around to frighten, then you might be able to get away with a little toot or two. Yet, if there's no one around, why are you honking? And where did everyone go?
17 Archives
Kristen Crawford
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