Call Of The Ramper

Back at work. Going on a trip after so many weeks off is really weird. And to add to the surrealism, this:
Yesterday at LAX, we're on the ground with most of the passengers on board and waiting to close the door. And I hear this: "EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeew!" It sounds just like a kitten, except to be heard over the 14 jet engines outside, this kitten would have to be the size of a bulldozer. I don't want that kitten, so I pretend I didn't hear anything. And there it is again: "EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeew!" I fly in the face of self-preservation and decide that I can't go to my grave not knowing what that sound is, so I poke my head out the door. There's a big Samoan ramper standing there, waving at another guy who clearly doesn't see him. And the Samoan guy takes a big deep breath and (you guessed it) says, "EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeew!"
It makes sense when you think about it. You would imagine that rampers, being big strapping fellows all, would scream at each other like basso lumberjacks. But the jet engines are taking up all the low frequencies, and so to be heard, you have to flip way up to tweeter range, which is what this guy was doing. At first I thought maybe it was just that one guy, but we were in and out of LAX all day that day, and everybody was eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewing at each other. I can't believe I hadn't noticed it before.
After a day of watching 400-pound rampers meow at each other, I just wanted to crawl back into bed and OD on Bomb Pops.