I was sitting outside a restaurant on Washington Street grabbing a bite to eat and reading the paper when suddenly I heard the strangest noise. It went on for a few seconds before I noticed, but suddenly I looked up from my paper in a state of shock and wonderment when I realized what it was.
It was the sound of nothing.
For one brief, glorious moment on a sunny September afternoon in Hoboken, N.J., I heard the magnificent, albeit unsettling sound of nothing – no vehicles roaring past, no blaring horns, no deafening sirens, no dogs barking, no people screaming, no radios blasting, no cell phones ringing, no car alarms clamoring. Nothing.
There was no woman on the street yelling at her kids while they swarmed around her like a pack of hyenas on an injured water buffalo. There was no homeless guy shaking a cup in my face and demanding a quarter, then telling me to go f–k myself when I decline to give him one. There were none of Hoboken’s finest wailing their ear-shattering sirens in a steadfast effort to curb incidents of double parking on Washington Street. There was no self-absorbed yuppie walking down the street and BS-ing on his hands-free cell phone, oblivious to the fact that he looked like some J. Crew-clad schizophrenic babbling into thin air.
There was no clueless clod from Connecticut holding up traffic as he tried looking for parking on Washington Street at 4 in the afternoon, and there was no exasperated local speeding past him in frustration and screaming obscenities on the way. There was no yippy little Schnauzer tied up outside a nail salon while "mommy-wommy" was inside getting her "nailie-wails" all prettied up. There were no high school hellions on those wretched, un-muffled motor scooters zipping in-and-out of traffic, on and off the sidewalk, assuming right of way wherever they went. There was no Korean lady yelling at the Spanish guy to get fresh lettuce for the Italian lady. There was no German-American car driven by an Irish-American guy blasting African-American music.
There was nothing – nothing at all. Not even a breeze. And it was beautiful.
At least, in hindsight it was beautiful. I’ll admit that at the time I was sort of freaked out by the whole thing. I’m not one of those hardcore urbanites who claim they get spooked by the sound of silence when they’re on vacation or anything like that. It was just kind of surreal to experience silence in such an urban environment. Anyone who is unfamiliar with Hoboken might think I’m being a bit melodramatic, but I was honestly expecting Armageddon in the wake of such a rare, almost supernatural occurrence. And I wasn’t the only one – my dog sat up somewhat startled and I saw a woman across the street pause and look around. Our eyes met briefly and it seemed like we shared the same expression – what the hell is going on here?!?!
Then all of a sudden it was over. While it felt like a
good fifteen to twenty seconds, I’m sure it was
probably only three or four. It was like somebody
somewhere had flipped a coin that landed neither heads
nor tails but stood straight up, only to fall over
soon after and cause that Twilight Zone moment to
pass.
The light turned green, the delivery truck
hesitated and the car behind him gave a not-so-friendly reminder. The truck’s engine roared,
signifying that the bliss was officially over. Hoboken
returned to its normal noisy self.
I don’t usually like sitting outside in Hoboken on Washington Street. Whenever I try to eat a meal out there or relax and have a drink with some friends, something always comes along to piss me off. And now that I’ve had my moment of silence, I’ll probably never be able to sit outside on Washington Street again. It’s like flying first-class once, then booking the rest of the trips for the rest of your life in coach – you had a peek at how good it can be, but it’ll never be that way again.
If you know how I can effectively waste $50 in the Metro-area, please write to:
"Hal Wastes His Wages"
c/o The Hudson Current
1400 Washington Street
Hoboken, New Jersey 07030
or email c_halleron@yahoo.com