Stop Yelling At Me

I don't attend a university. I spend my time at an adult day-care. 
At least, I spend the majority of my time feeling that way. It's as if every local student has only two modes of self-expression: dressing up and screaming.
To illustrate: Apparently, it's election time. For god knows what. So to promote (celebrate? solicit?), there are groups of half a dozen students dressed to the nines, who stand in various places around campus and shout at the top of their lungs. So I'm minding my own business, nursing the tail end of a common cold, and as I ascend the escalator into the student center, there's a deafening noise. It's no less than four separate groups of students, gathered around the escalator, screaming slogans at each other. No one can hear anything distinct due to the sheer cacophony of the whole thing.

Do you know what I hate? I hate yelling. It's one of my triggers. Short of extreme emotional duress or some live-or-die moment of truth, yelling takes me from normal to seething. Now, don't get me wrong. This squawking around campus is nothing new. It's been going on since the first week of school. I had thought that it was a side-effect of orientation. Apparently, it's a consistent event.

Look, I know I'm a Westerner. I'm here temporarily, and I don't know the culture here. But this is not academic. This does not foster learning. This is an aggravating, ridiculous, and childish thing that I have completely lost my temper over. I came here to at least pretend that I'm learning, and I can't even do that with a million Power Rangers and Lady GaGa wannabes screaming in Cantonese at me. Were I an employer, I wouldn't hire a single individual out of this frickin' preschool.
City University is a joke of an institution on an academic level, made all the more ridiculous by it's student body.
At least it's not out in the frickin' mountains.

Sigh. Had to be said.