Thursday, July 14, 2005
Fire & Ice
I'm moving. Not far, but upgrading from apartment to condo. I'm reaping all of the benefits and difficulties that come with a new neighborhood.
As I walked to my car to grab some things the other day, I saw several children eating ice cream. It is a hot July evening, and I would like nothing more than a Nutty Buddy, a Strawberry Shortcake, or a Chocotaco. Unfortunately I didn't see the ice cream man anywhere in site. Nor did I hear the faint music of his truck.
The next day as I stand outside working on something, I hear a fire alarm go off somewhere in the complex and my "new homeowner mentality" kicks in. I had not yet switched my insurance coverage, so if it becomes a full-on blaze, I'm in trouble. The sound goes away and I return to my previously realxed state.
Moments later, I again see three or four kids with ice cream, still with no ice cream man or dispenser in sight.
It wasn't until a few hours later while walking to my car to leave for the evening, that I noticed that the mystery creamer and the annoying alarm were one in the same. Gone was the fun calliope of childrens from yesteryear songs spewing from the speakers of Mr. Good Humor. In its place is a collection horn loud enough to wake the dead from yesteryear.
In 2003, Montgomery County discussed limiting noise emission from ice cream trucks and similar mobile businesses; but that was when it was music. The banning failed public opinion surveys and trucks were allowed to play music freely and clearly once again.
So why a horn instead? Maybe to alert children of the frozen decadence en route from afar. Perhaps because it is a definite attention-getter. But most likely it is because the 17-year-old kid things it is cool to make an entrance only a dalmation's mom could love. I like firemen, but Mr. Iceman, you in your pipsqueakishness, couldn't be further from it. Come back with real music, and while you're at it, several ice cream sandwiches to ease the pain of the alarm.
As I walked to my car to grab some things the other day, I saw several children eating ice cream. It is a hot July evening, and I would like nothing more than a Nutty Buddy, a Strawberry Shortcake, or a Chocotaco. Unfortunately I didn't see the ice cream man anywhere in site. Nor did I hear the faint music of his truck.
The next day as I stand outside working on something, I hear a fire alarm go off somewhere in the complex and my "new homeowner mentality" kicks in. I had not yet switched my insurance coverage, so if it becomes a full-on blaze, I'm in trouble. The sound goes away and I return to my previously realxed state.
Moments later, I again see three or four kids with ice cream, still with no ice cream man or dispenser in sight.
It wasn't until a few hours later while walking to my car to leave for the evening, that I noticed that the mystery creamer and the annoying alarm were one in the same. Gone was the fun calliope of childrens from yesteryear songs spewing from the speakers of Mr. Good Humor. In its place is a collection horn loud enough to wake the dead from yesteryear.
In 2003, Montgomery County discussed limiting noise emission from ice cream trucks and similar mobile businesses; but that was when it was music. The banning failed public opinion surveys and trucks were allowed to play music freely and clearly once again.
So why a horn instead? Maybe to alert children of the frozen decadence en route from afar. Perhaps because it is a definite attention-getter. But most likely it is because the 17-year-old kid things it is cool to make an entrance only a dalmation's mom could love. I like firemen, but Mr. Iceman, you in your pipsqueakishness, couldn't be further from it. Come back with real music, and while you're at it, several ice cream sandwiches to ease the pain of the alarm.
# posted by Jay @ 1:42 PM 
