From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sound
The rhythmic *clack-clack* of horseless carriages over the cobblestones is getting drowned out by that bally song, "In My Merry Oldsmobile," blaring from every open window until the melody is stuck in my head like a bad penny. I leaned against the brick wall, whistling the chorus while watching the political swells argue about Addicks, their voices rising into a cacophony of posh nonsense that bores me to tears. Dad thinks he’s a real brain since he read about that new "E=mc2" theory in the paper, but all I can hear is the sweet, metallic ring of a coin dropping into a jukebox down the street. Between the screech of the iron trolleys and the gossip about the Delaware committee fight, I’d give anything for a bit of Novocain just to numb the noise of this city.