My continuing quest for worthless knowledge has led me to the following site, which is actually quite funny:
Over the weekend I went to a cookout at a friend's house in nearby Reston. i don't remember what I had to eat, nor do I recall who was there. No idea what we had to drink. We probably talked about something, but I'm not sure.
What I do remember, however, with absolute 100% certainty, is the absolute, incessant, unrelenting, mind-numbing NOISE.
Reston is an older community (relatively speaking) built back in the '60's and '70's, and one of it's most distinguishing characteristics is the area's preservation of trees. And if there's one thing adult cicadas enjoy more than humping one another's brains out, it's trees. They absolutely live for them.
And the backyard of this particular house is practically all woods, with a lot of trees providing shade for the deck in the back. It's all very nice... and all VERY loud.
It's no exageration to say that if you were sitting right next to someone, you had to keep your voice raised to be understood. And if you were trying to get someone's attention 10 or 15 feet away, you pretty much had to shout to be heard. The million or two cicadas in the treetops directly overhead didn't leave us much choice.
However, I'm glad to report that everyone was cool with the experience. No one was complaining about the din, and most importantly, no one was freaked out by them. This last point is important, because cicadas were constantly landing on the deck, on the railings, on our plates, and on our bodies. And while I'm not sure, it's a safe bet that some of them were incinerated when they landed on the grill (there were no wings on my burger patty, however; I checked). One even landed in the wading pool that was set up for the lone child. And through it all, everyone kept rescuing the horny little bastards.
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My Point Exactly
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