Saturday Morning Thoughts: Loud Noises

Hope everyone is doing well this morning. I acted like an adult last night and didn’t get sloppy, so I’m awarding myself a gold star. Since I don’t actually own any gold stars – and have never met anyone that does – I’ll take not being hungover as my award. It feels pretty good. I’d like to thank my parents and family for this honor.

Something dawned on me last night and I’ll admit it fully knowing I sound like a grandpa: I hate loud bars. I’m through with overpaying for microbrews at a trendy bar that blasts music so loud that I can’t hear my own thoughts, much less the person standing right next to me.

Seriously, why doesn’t everyone hate these kinds of bars? I feel like a fucking idiot as I continually smile and nod in conversations simply because I have no fucking idea what a person two feet away from me is saying. People probably think I’m some kind of mute nitwit. I’m not, I swear – I just can’t hear you. So, I just smile and nod because I don’t want to offend you or do one of those odd-looking (and feeling) head bobs where I angle my ear right at your mouth. I hope you find me charming.

It’s not that the music is even bad at all bars. In fact some bars actually play some really interesting, fun tunes. But if I wanted music to pound on my eardrums so hard that it penetrated my subconscious and haunted me in my dreams, I would jam my iHeadphones so hard into my ears that they came out of my ass.

Tell 'em, Brick.

Tell ’em, Brick.

I’m not sure what you guys want when you go out to a bar, but I want to talk to people. Reconnect with old friends or connect with new, cool peeps. I’m not just looking for loud noises. What does it say about our culture that at regular bars these days – I’m not even talking about clubs – music prohibits us from having meaningful conversations. Does the Royal Council of Bars feel that we, as millennials, are too unintelligent to have a somewhat tipsy conversation in a public place?

Maybe the Royal Council of Bars thinks they’re doing us a favor. You’re not, RCoB. You are a bunch of bastards. I bet you have some kind of stake in all music everywhere and get some kind of financial cut for blitzing our subconscious with it. I’m onto you. I’ll be writing to your president or king in the very near future.

The letter will include this rousing, William Wallace-inspired passage that will surely inspire an idea for an amazing feature film:

We the people all love music. It’s part of our everyday lives and lifts us up when nothing else can. We like getting tipsy and singing to our heart’s content with best friends, family, and strangers. But we will no longer stand for the tyranny you bring upon us. No longer will we, the people, stand idly by while you, the Royal Council of Bars, distorts our feelings about songs by playing them so loudly we can’t connect with the person next to us. God damn you, RCoB. We’re here to reclaim our ability to hear ourselves and our friends. We’ll see you in hell.

Okay, so I’ll have to work on the letter a little bit so that the intern who reads the mail at the Royal Council of Bars passes it on to her superiors. But you get my point.

If you don’t agree, or just want me to stop ranting, just smile and nod. It usually works.

This post was written by Billy Kirland, co-founder of The Millennial Man. 


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