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Yesterday was sunny, mid-80s, with a lovely breeze so I went down to the pool to read. There were about 15 to 20 people already there in the water or deckside, reading, dozing, or conversing in normal tones. I found a deck chair and settled in, enjoying my book, the scudding clouds, and the peaceful rustle of the wind in the trees.
A woman claimed the chair next to mine and was joined shortly thereafter by her companion. She sent him into the building. He returned with a phone; I assumed she'd forgotten hers. Then she ordered him up again and he came back with second phone. And then a tablet. I realized to my chagrin that he was being dispatched to find a device that would connect to the bluetooth speaker she had with her. Alas, with the fourth device, they managed to get it to work. Goodbye, peaceful rustle of the wind in the trees, I thought, and resigned myself to having to listen to whatever music they chose to inflict on the rest of us.
Half an hour later another resident came down, grabbed a table by the grills, and fired up his bluetooth speaker. Pool Woman lost her mind. "Oh my god, I can hear his music from here. Doesn't he realize we can hear his music from here? I don't want to listen to his music. Oh my god, this is so obnoxious." I, and the 15 to 20 other people who undoubtedly also own bluetooth speakers but had collectively elected not to use them so that no one would have to listen to anyone else's music, bit our tongues.
And kept biting them as Pool Woman spent the next 15 minutes commanding her partner to move their speaker to various locations around the pool deck and progressively ratcheting up the volume as she and Grill Man engaged in passive aggressive sonic warfare with each other. Ironically, this turned out to be better for my reading concentration because Pool Woman and Grill Man's music combined to become a white noise racket that was easier to tune out than a single source of noise pollution.
When a third dude appeared with yet another bluetooth speaker, I knew it was time to (ahem) throw in the towel and head back up. I wonder what the final speaker count was by the time the pool closed.
これで以上です。
A woman claimed the chair next to mine and was joined shortly thereafter by her companion. She sent him into the building. He returned with a phone; I assumed she'd forgotten hers. Then she ordered him up again and he came back with second phone. And then a tablet. I realized to my chagrin that he was being dispatched to find a device that would connect to the bluetooth speaker she had with her. Alas, with the fourth device, they managed to get it to work. Goodbye, peaceful rustle of the wind in the trees, I thought, and resigned myself to having to listen to whatever music they chose to inflict on the rest of us.
Half an hour later another resident came down, grabbed a table by the grills, and fired up his bluetooth speaker. Pool Woman lost her mind. "Oh my god, I can hear his music from here. Doesn't he realize we can hear his music from here? I don't want to listen to his music. Oh my god, this is so obnoxious." I, and the 15 to 20 other people who undoubtedly also own bluetooth speakers but had collectively elected not to use them so that no one would have to listen to anyone else's music, bit our tongues.
And kept biting them as Pool Woman spent the next 15 minutes commanding her partner to move their speaker to various locations around the pool deck and progressively ratcheting up the volume as she and Grill Man engaged in passive aggressive sonic warfare with each other. Ironically, this turned out to be better for my reading concentration because Pool Woman and Grill Man's music combined to become a white noise racket that was easier to tune out than a single source of noise pollution.
When a third dude appeared with yet another bluetooth speaker, I knew it was time to (ahem) throw in the towel and head back up. I wonder what the final speaker count was by the time the pool closed.
これで以上です。
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