since i've been taking the bus so much lately, i've been hyper-aware of how invasive the world of cars is. today it was their horns.

sitting at the bus stop, waiting for the F line, and quietly reading my book, i was interrupted by horns. a street intersecting Market had become clogged with cars who hadn't made it all the way across before the light had changed (another irksome motorist habit) and the now stuck drivers were letting the world know their impatience and ire audibly.

the horns were so loud they made me jump, startled. tucked inside your car, you don't realize just how caucaphonous a car horn really is. it's meant to alert, to draw attention to its encasing automobile, to warn other drivers, tucked also inside their cars, that they are too close or too careless. for such things, it needs to be loud. inside our cars, we just don't realize how loud it is.

but standing next to a car, ears unmuffled, i could take in the full brunt of the horn. it was plenty loud. it made its point.

boning up for my trip to Hawaii last year, i read that Hawaiians rarely, if ever, use their carhorns. most likely, if you hear a horn on the islands, it's a tourist in a rental car. it's true. while there, i heard only one or two beeps, both from sunburnt tourist types. even in Honululu, where streets are just as crowded, drivers just as careless as in any other big city, car horns weren't a part of the auditory landscape.

part of that is due to a more patient, more calm society. there are no doubts why Hawaii is such an excellent place to vacation. but it is also because of courtesy and understanding that seems to lack on the mainland. i melded quickly to this humanity, always letting drivers in ahead of me (to a thankful "hang loose" wave), carefully watching for pedestrians or bicyclists, slowing for an eminent stop at yellow lights.

it made sense and i felt so much more at ease when i reached my destinations, not much more late than i would have been had i cut off motorists and zoomed through dying yellow lights.

so as i stood there this afternoon at the busstop, my day interrupted by noise, i drank up the fruitlessness of these horns. they gave no alert or warning, they solved no problems. they merely expressed the frustration of a driver stuck by other drivers' poor judgement. you're still stuck, silly driver. and now you've interrupted my peaceful Saturday afternoon.

i gave a glare that spoke volumes to the driver closest to me as his wife, perhaps noticing my stare, berated him for the same unnecessary tooting.

you'll never learn, i know. you'll never think twice before blasting sound at any and every immovable situation. but please try not to do it in front of me, on saturday afternoons, while i'm enjoying my book and the normal hum of the city.