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I grew up in the San Fernando Valley, where we didn't have cicadas. But every summer we would visit my step-dad's family in Kansas City, where there was a 110-decibel buzz coming from every tree. I could hardly hear myself think, yet everyone there was so used to it that they had "tuned it out". They couldn't hear it at all, and had no idea what I was talking about. It took me several days to isolate the cause of the racket, since the sound echoes severely, and the little buggers stop when you get close. The locals call them locusts, but they were actually cicadas.
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