Today in honor of the new noise code going into effect, which requires, among other things, that jackhammers be swaddled in noise jackets, I am re-running Hepcat’s jackhammer story. When I re-run a story I always color it red.

Hepcat and I were having a Greek salad for lunch at home when the phone rang.

Ring. Ring.

"Did you call yesterday to complain about construction noise?" a man with an adorably New Yawk accent said to me on the phone

"No, I think you have the wrong number," I said.

"Ahhhh, let me check," he said.
While he was checking, I called out to Hepcat: "Hey, did you make a noise complaint?" He was munching on some lettuce. 
"Yeah. That was me," he said as he grabbed the phone.
I was more than a little surprised.

But then again Hepcat is a man of few word (they don’t call him No
Words_Daily Pix for nothing and I guess this didn’t warrant a mention
when I asked him: "How was your day, honey?" I asked yesterday.  "Fine." was his simple reply."

Here’s a more detailed version of what Hepcat told the guy on the phone.

HEPCAT’S ACCOUNT OF YESTERDAY’S INCIDENT

Yesterday there was a DEP crew on Sixth Avenue at
the intersection of Third Street jackhammering the pavement away from a
manhole cover. Rather than the usual jackhammer as loud as a
jackhammer, it was the jackhammer as loud as a jackhammer in your very
own bathroom while you have a hangover. In other words much much louder
than the normal jackhammers that we all know and love.

So as I walked by on
my way to  U-Haul, I noticed that the jackhammer didn’t have the
so-called muffler that they’re required to have in New York City. If
you haven’t noticed, most jackhammers have a gadget that looks like a
small lawn mower muffler sticking out of them or are wrapped up in a
little blanket much like a newborn baby. These are required by the city
because they cut the noise considerably.

So I stopped and asked the
work crew why didn’t their jackhammer have the New York City required
swaddling?

"You’re supposed to have a muffler on that, why don’t you?" I said fully expecting the converation to go along the lines of: THEM:
"We have no idea what you’re talking about." ME: "Tell your supervisior
to give you the right equipment. It’s making too much noise."
THEM: "Thanks, buddy." 

Basic good samaritan stuff.

Instead, a crew
member said:  "So you want to make something of it? Why don’t you call
311?" interspersed with colorful Anglo Saxon construction terms of art.
So I said: "I’ll do just that!" And I took my handy cell phone out of
my pocket and one of the crew members started waving a shovel over my
head and made various threats. One of the others tried to reason with
the guy: "Put that down," he said.

The shovel-guy chased me west on
Third Street and finally was stopped by one of the other crew members.
Phew.

Shaken up, I continued walking toward Fifth Avenue. When I
finally calmed down, I called 311 and started telling them the whole
thing. When I got to the shovel waving portion of the account, they
switched me to the 911 operator because of threats and assault by
shovel. But, I don’t know, it seemed like the door was opening into a
weeks-long Kafkaesque episode I didn’t want to be part of.

So I told
the 911 people I didn’t want to press charges and all that. I finished
talking to the nice people at 311 who were very professional and that
was that until the phone call we just got It was  than 24 hours later.
Some of the city employees are doing a very nice job and some of
them…."

END OF HEPCAT’S ACCOUNT.

So when was Hepcat going to tell me that he nearly got hit on the head with a shovel?