The repetitive mechanical music of ice cream trucks is as much a part of summer’s aural wallpaper as the sound of kids asking their parents when they can go back inside to play video games because it’s tooooo hoooooot ouuuuuut, but some warm weather pooh pooh-ers are doing their part to change that.
In New York City, more than 7,000 killjoys have complained to the city about excessive happiness-spreading by ice cream trucks in the last four years alone, according to the New York Post. Residents are irked by Mr. Softee playing music too loudly, causing a racket outside of the designated hours when trucks are allowed to play their little junk food jingles, or playing music while parked (which is verboten).
As someone who lives right next to a garage where ice cream trucks nest at night, I sympathize somewhat with annoyed residents who call to complain. Despite the ostensible joy-spreading inherent in their profession, the ice cream truck drivers who park next door are a surly, leering bunch who keep playing their music loudly even after their trucks are being hosed off for the night. A man who drives a truck emblazoned with Christian messages once told me something rude about my butt (he wanted to touch it with his sex parts). They sprayed me with a hose while I was jogging. They’re not nice people. I’d probably get the same sort of joy watching one of them receive a ticket from a police officer that I’d get watching a careless cab getting pulled over after almost mowing down a pedestrian.
Then again, what kind of a monster takes a stand against ice cream?
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