Have you ever noticed that once you decide you really hate a song, you begin hearing it everywhere?
I’ll give you an example.
A few years ago, my mother decided the song she hated most in the world was Pharrell Williams’ Happy. Every time she heard it on the radio, she would immediately turn the channel, making a little noise of disgust.
Me: “Why do you hate that song so much? It’s so positive!”
Mom: “It just repeats Because I’m happy, clap! Clap! Clap! Over and over! It’s so stupid!”
Me: “It’s so positive. He just wants you to be happy, mother.”
Mom: “I am happy. I don’t need a song to tell me to be happy.”
That summer, she and I took a trip to Australia. It was the trip of a lifetime, and hands-down the best trip I’ve ever taken. Our first stop was to Yulara, a small resort town just outside the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. It didn’t have too much beyond a few resorts and a campground, but it did have a small plaza, with shops and a restaurant or two. Now, sprinkled around the square were loudspeakers that played a fairly steady stream of music. As we were walking around, I heard the first few faint notes of a song I recognized. I froze, straining to hear the music clearly, and it clicked.
I immediately busted up laughing.
My mom, meanwhile, was rather confused as to why her child had frozen in the middle of the sidewalk and was now laughing at seemingly nothing.
Mom: “What is it?”
Me: “It’s following you”
Mom: “Excuse me?”
Me: “It’s following you everywhere!” *near-hysterical laughter*
Mom: “What are you talking about?”
Me: “The song!”
Mom: “There’s not music pla—oh. Wait. Is--is that that damn happy song?!”
Me: *nodding as I try to stop laughing*
Mom: “We need to get inside. Ugh, it’s everywhere!”
Me: *trailing behind her as she looks desperately for an open shop* “It’s following you!”
And that was how two Americans ended up in the middle of nowhere in Australia, laughing at a song.
I have no idea what I'm doing.