A Tribute to Life in Washington D.C.

Leaf Blowers and the Home Office

Gainesville, Virginia - Its the first day of winter. How may leaves are left? I am in the home office trying to work, and it begins. The droning scream of the high powered leaf blower. Not just one, but several. I head outdoors to right this wrong or at least give the stare that says, "Give me a fucking break." I am greeted by the neighbor's team of leaf blower operators. A group of four lawn care enthusiasts shepherding a handful of leaves. I approach the leader of the pack. He is observing leaf operations from the company truck at the curb.

I approach and he rolls down the window, "Does it really take four leaf blowers to round up the handful of remaining winter leaves?"

"What you say meester?" For lawn care he is well-dressed, wearing the same coveralls as the others. His name is Carlos, proven by the name tag sewn over his left pocket. These guys started the day looking pristine, like they could be caddies in the U.S. Open. Fucking corporate lawn care, I think.

Recognizing a language barrier I extend four fingers. "Four? Cuatro? Really, four leaf blowers? The noise," I complain, "Please," giving the squinted-eye look one uses when boring into their temple with an electric drill.

Finally I am getting somewhere. Carlos climbs out of the truck, walks to the rear and plops open the tailgate with a bang. He pulls out a nearly new leaf blower with machine gun rated ear muffs. With ear protection in place, Carlos pulls the cord on the leaf blower engine twice before the tool roars to life. Carlos closes the tailgate and joins the others. Leaf blowers should be outlawed. "Hey, asshole," I shout.