Honk

One aspect of life in New York City that I have not yet adjusted to (and might never) is the constant horn honking by New York drivers. They honk at anything, anytime, for any reason. At traffic lights, they have lightning-fast reflexes: the instant the light turns green, their hand reaches the horn faster than the foot of the driver in front of them can reach the accelerator. Car service drivers picking up a fare sit in front of apartment buildings and honk, instead of calling the customer on their cell phone to let them know they're waiting (despite the fact that every one of these drivers has a Borg implant Bluetooth device in his ear and talks incessantly on the phone while driving). And then there's the second on my list of annoyances, the double-parker, who engenders no small amount of honking himself from passing cars. Occasionally, you'll see a "Don't Honk Horn - $350 Penalty" sign, but that has about as much effect as the "Speed Limit 65 mph Maximum" sign on California freeways. To the native New Yorker, perhaps the horn honking sounds like birdsong. But to this beach bum, it's as enjoyable as bird crap.