Not unrelated to the last post, if you select the acoustically perfect booth in a deli to sit with your screaming child--the one that acts as a horn as you sit in the corner with your precious little Madison freaking out about the cheese on her goddamn sandwich--as the whole rest of us in the establishment do indeed know now of her apparent discomfort over the use of cheddar--you deserve to have 124 decibels of polka music force fed into your face at my earliest convenience.