I believe in yelling. In the catharsis of expletives and bursting lungs. Full words don’t even have to be formed, its volume that counts. Especially when you’re in a crowd, the importance doubles when it’s a too many people in too little space. Yelling is how we have to communicate on those loud nights in dimly lit clubs, hours from home. You can’t hear yourself think, but someone across the room seems to have something very important to tell you.
Six of us packed into a station wagon, windows down, volume up. The front bumper has been missing for weeks due to an unfortunate encounter with the 34 trolley during a crucial run for midnight Chinese takeout. We have work in six hours and at least half of that will be spent on highways through New Jersey, back to our skyline and gum stained sidewalks. How did we end up in Delaware? GO BACK! Wait, who cares? The cigarettes are cheaper here! There are a million songs left to listen to and you can bet we know every last word and we aren’t anywhere close to tired, or home.
Silence is for sleeping and sleeping ain’t for us! Yelling is a way to keep your heavy eyes as open as possible on those highway nights. Vacant truck stops have incredible acoustics. It’s shocking just how loud a handful of girls can be while debating whether or not the fries at Bob’s Big Boy might be vegan. We’re still awake thanks to adrenaline and we’re keeping as loud as possible to retain that feeling until we can make it to a semi-comfortable place to rest. We won’t stop yelling and singing until its time for sleep.
In the everyday there is often nothing as calming as rowdy expression. The first word that comes to mind after a toe-stubbing is not a softly spoken “Phooey”. The only way to really make that throbbing in your toe cease is with a sudden explosion of sound. Even when no one is nearby, just shouting nonsense at nobody feels good
I like to be as loud as possible in as many places that would consider it inappropriate as possible. No where truly disruptive, just fun places. Like the Burger King drive-thru window on Columbus Boulevard. Maybe it’s an odd manifestation of some latent feminism, a fun and unruly way of asserting myself. More importantly, I think it is a grand way to have fun and make those Burger King employees enjoy their long night as much as possible.
Shouting is a way to talk, laugh, love and be loved. I believe in the power of words. There is nothing as beautiful as a strong voice.
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