After I found the house where the blasting radio was, I slowed my car and stopped in front of the man's driveway. He was dreamily wiping down his pick-up truck, obviously intent on listening to the radio host's diatribe. I rolled down my car window and tried to get his attention. "Um, sir? Uh, hello? Hi there -- sir?" That went on for over a minute, and although my car was blocking his driveway, he was completely oblivious to me.
So, I turned off my car and got out. Took a deep breath. Slowly and calmly walked toward the man. (Why didn't I take the time to change into better clothes?) I was about six feet away from him, and stopped to try to get his attention. Spoke again. Waved. Waved some more. So I approached another foot or two. Finally, the man noticed me. He frowned and reached over to turn down the radio.
"Um, hi. I was wondering if you would mind please turning down your radio? I can hear it from inside my house on the next block."
A grunted, "Really?"
"Yes, it's really loud and I was wondering if you could turn it down."
Another guttural "Really?" He was emoting annoyance and some of the anger he had absorbed from the radio show.
"Yes, sir, I was just asking for a little peace in our neighborhood. It would be nice if you could turn the radio down, please. I appreciate it." I could tell I had overstayed my unwelcome, so I turned on my heel and left. He muttered something that included an overused profanity, and I muttered back (I'm not proud to say), "Same to you, buddy." And with that, I left.
But during the last part of the exchange, I noticed something.
To be continued . . .