We are seventeen days into May. I have logged noise disturbances from directly adjacent neighbors on twelve of them. I want to be clear that this count does not include the trucks passing my house with their stereos set to “structural damage.” Those are a separate category I’m calling ambient infrastructure.
This morning opened at 9am with loud talking. By 11am a completely different neighbor had tagged in with music, because apparently there’s a rotation now and everyone got the schedule except me. I left for a late lunch, one of the quieter decisions I made today, for the record. I came home at 5pm to loud talking and music from another neighbor. A different one. Three separate contributors. One day.
Last night’s featured performance was at 1:30 in the morning.
Twelve days out of seventeen. For those of you who prefer your math narrated, silence has become the anomaly. I have started to find it suspicious when it’s quiet. I assume something is charging.
Now, you might be wondering: Dennis, doesn’t Pompano Beach have a noise ordinance?
It does. I know because I was personally involved in getting it amended. It took effect in January. You can look it up. It’s public record. The noise ordinance is decorative at this point , much like my backyard, which I also cannot enjoy.
You might also wonder: can’t you call BSO?
You can. I have. BSO will respond promptly, drive through the neighborhood with their windows up, possibly park briefly with the engine running, and file a report noting no music was heard. I’ve stopped calling. Not out of defeat. Out of respect for everyone’s time.
And then there’s code enforcement, which operates on a complaint and documentation process that moves at a pace scientists would describe as pre-continental. By the time a violation works its way through the system, my neighbors will have completed a full summer tour, released a live album, and started booking festivals.
I want to be clear about something, because someone always needs me to be clear about something. I am not asking for silence. My impact windows and air conditioner have handled most of the loud talking and music from neighbors, and I am genuinely grateful for the assist. What they cannot help me with is my backyard, which exists on paper and in property records but not in practice. Or my front porch, where I can hear music from a neighbor behind my house, which means the sound has completed a full tour of my property without purchasing a ticket.
The trucks, for the record, can be heard inside. Impact windows have limits.
Twelve days. The month is not over.
I’ll keep logging. BSO will keep completing laps. Code enforcement will keep processing. And somewhere in the neighborhood right now, someone is doing vocal warmups for this evening’s performance.
I’ll be here. I’ve cleared my schedule.
