In Stars Hollow I live on a 5 street cul-de-sac backed by a protected watershed. For one day each year, for 2 or 3 hours, we’re entirely cut off from civilization by the Memorial Day Parade. You can tell it’s coming because they take down the eksmas decorations and put up flags on the phone poles (which we leave until July 4th because we’re thrifty like that).
It’s actually a really big neighborhood holiday, you can’t go anywhere because the streets are blocked and everyone congregates along the parade route and gets a chance to gossip about how the kids are doing.
From the time I was an Indian Guide until I graduated Marching Band I was a part of the show, stepping the 2 mile route from the marshaling area to the Town Hall reviewing stand. For many years I grieved that my neighborhood seemed to be slighted in the musical department as drum majors preserved their performances.
So, once I was beyond caring or retribution, I sidled down the street a bit and at the appropriate moment used my regulation Lifeguard issue Acme Thunderer to give the 4 rhythmic blasts that triggered a roll off in my former compatriots. The results were quite satisfactory.
Not that I’m advocating low tech hacking or civil disobedience.