I'd like to regale you in a tale from my personal collection.
I was on a train, one that passed near the Grand Canyon, and was eager for an educational tour of nature's splendor. I had brought a pencil and a notepad for sketching the beautiful scenery. As the train continued to board, on trotted a moo with two calves in tow. Well, one calf and one Pet Monster, and at the time, I was unaware of the breed. The beast was writhing in the simple stroller he was strapped into at the time, likely five or six in age, and tips of his pull up peeking out of his shorts. His brother quietly sat down, as did the Moo, pulling the stroller against the seat.
I ignored them, more interested in the sights to be seen ahead. The train slowly chugged to life, picking up momentum as a narration began over the speakers. Regretfully, I cannot remember any of that narration. Mostly because I was unable to hear most of it. For about three seconds in, a whimper caught my ears, almost fearful in tone. I turned back to the noise to see the domesticated demon open his maw to release an ear piercing shriek. A Purebred Banshee. Terrific. But, of course, he silenced himself afterwards. I thought, perhaps, that it had been a single occurance, and perhaps the ride would continue in relative silence. About forty-eight seconds later, the whimpering returned, followed by another screech, a noise so loud it made my ears buzz like a microphone breaking levels.
And this went on unbroken for an hour. The worst part was the whimpering, something that didn't give long enough warning, just simply heralded another wail from the brat.
His well behaved counterpart has my sympathy. He seemed younger than the other, and well trained as a future caretaker, handfeeding the shrieking beast fruit snacks, doing his best to calm and entertain him. This will be a long and awful life for him.
I felt the tension grow, I was ready to start howling myself. The not quite symmetrical nor evenly timed row was like a corkscrew in my skull, winding my nerves more and more tightly, I wasn't sure how long I was going to be able to keep up my facade of patience.
He slept for a fleeting thirty minutes on the way back. Which unfortunately was thirty minutes shy of the time it took to return to the station. I had learned nothing about the ecosystem of the desert, my head was pounding worse than any hangover I've had since, and I was consumed with the urge to destroy something, rip or crush or tear apart.
It was the least relaxing or enjoyable trip I've ever been on, to this very day.