Regular readers of the Guadalajara Reporter will have taken note of our August 18 front page story on Jalisco’s new anti-noise law.

It’s sweet sounding news for folks who abhor high-decibel goings-on in this neck of the woods and treasure their peace and quiet.

The so-called Ley Antiruido empowers local authorities to enforce noise control regulations. That’s a boon for the circle of expats who have been grousing for years that municipal police are lax in applying federal statutes already on the books. But such complaints stem from the inability to grasp specific purviews of law enforcement at different levels of government.

A word of warning to anti-noise fanatics. Don’t hold your breath. For starters, nothing will happen on the local front until the municipal government enacts its own regulatory code. Ojo: the city council has approved at least three different ordinances during the current term. Not one has gone into effect due to procrastination in taking the final steps: the requisite publication and registration of the content.

Thus, with the change of government just three weeks away, you can bet that chances for implementing noise rules before the end of the year are practically nil.

As much as many people would welcome squelching the annoying din so engrained in our everyday living, there are plenty of others who thrive on it. Some are bound to tag the new legislation as La Ley Aguafiestas (Party-pooper Law).

Lakeside has a well established reputation as a hub of raucous festivity.  It’s a place where Guadalajara’s younger generation comes on weekends to party hard, congregating on the lake front with their automobile speakers cranked up to top volume. And the calendar of special events is chock-full with concerts, raves, mud-bogging fests and other happenings that are likely to send sound detection devices off the charts.

Keep in mind that a couple of years ago, Carnaval, Chapala’s annual two-week Mardi Gras blowout was promoted with the slogan Hagamos Ruido (Let’s Make Noise).  Loud is practically a trademark for any lakeside festivity.

The state’s anti-noise law includes a provision for limiting the kindling of ear-splitting fuegos artificiales (fireworks) to the hours of 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. But there’s a caveat. Municipal authorities are allowed to grant permission for an extension of that time frame in accordance with local customs.    

Will they likewise push the time envelope for bars and nightclubs, private parties, weddings and other rites-of-passage celebrations? Will they silence the sound cars that roam our streets? If so, how will I know when the junk collector is trolling my neighborhood? Or get the cue to race out to the sidewalk to flag down Zeta-Zeta-Zeta Gas?

Will villagers be forced to muzzle their dogs and roosters and burros? Housewives and daughters obligated to tone down the boom boxes that mark the beat of their daily chores?

Perish the thought that Ajijic is doomed to become deathly quiet, stripped of it vibrant auditory colors and the laughter that ties in to its hiccup name.