By Nancy Lombardo
There are so many sounds we take for granted, living in New York City. A siren, truck horns, helicopters, screams in the night (usually the young returning home from a night of partying). But the most invasive of all of these sounds is the car alarm and if you live anywhere near a loop in Stuyvesant Town, you know the nightmare.
Quiet has finally settled in your sleeping mind, ambient noise is at its minimum.
When suddenly…WAW-WAW-WAW-WAW. The maniacal car alarm breaks the silence with its piercing cry…WAW-WAW-WAW! You think to yourself “Please let it stop soon,” but it doesn’t.
And for some reason, it’s always when you have one to two more hours of sleep owed to you. “No, make it stop,” you cry. Surely the owner can discern the “WAW-WAW” like a mother the cry of her own child. But no, peace does not come and it continues on and on, WAW-WAW-WAW!
As a car owner (who parks in the garage), I understand the need to protect your property but are you seriously going to race down from your 10th floor apartment to thwart the interloper or thief? Are you really going to get all Superman at four a.m.? (Which by the way means Ante meridiem, in 12-hour clock notation, Latin for “before noon, p.m. Post meridiem”; who knew? Not me. Sorry, I got off topic. Blame it on sleep interuptus.) Anyway, I doubt you will be taking on bad guys in your pajamas.
I understand no one wants his or her car broken into or stolen. And the siren does draw attention to the vehicle, but surely there must be a happy medium we can achieve. LoJack perhaps, an alarm disabling device; I’m open to suggestions. Until then for the love of humanity, if you do recognize it’s your car, can you please race down there (come on, elevator!) in your pajamas (which people seem to wear now as a fashion statement anyway) and turn the darn thing off?
On behalf of the sleep deprived, I thank you.
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