I Hate the Air Show

To be honest, I've never been to the air show. I hate what precedes the air show.

Every year, the pilots announce they are in town by buzzing the city for an hour or two. And every year, they interrupt a perfectly nice Spring day with their own special style of noise pollution. It would not bother me to the extent it does, if their flight path were not right over our office.

I'll admit a prejudice against loud noises. I tend to dislike concerts, clubs and auto races, among other things. Even people who talk or eat too loudly can get under my skin. I can be a touchy SOB! What can I say, I need an office!

But that doesn't make those amped up, peace-interrupting, jet fuel-wasting fly boys any less annoying. (I have this image of them playing shirtless volleyball, exchanging ridiculous high and low fives while planning how to ruin my day.)

By the way, my views in no way reflect the views of others at the station. They love the air show. Libby is riding in one of the planes tomorrow. I hope the pilots don't read this and make her puke extra to get back at me.