This morning I had a doctor’s appointment about this creeping cruddy plague I just can’t seem to shake (spoiler: it’s bronchitis and a nasty sinus infection–nothing to worry about) and I stopped at the gas station on my way home to pick up some milk and a snack, since I didn’t want to go the extra way to the actual grocery store. I go to this gas station a lot, actually, because the people are nice and they have a rewards program that gets me free sammiches every other week or so.
Someone at this gas station also seriously loves 80s music. There’s almost always some retro big hair band music playing when I go in there (oh, god, the music of my high school days is now “retro”) and today was no different. And, as I perused the chips aisle, “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor came on.
I unabashedly love this song. In fact, I unabashedly love every Survivor song. My 16-year-old-self comes out to play every time I hear one–big hair, leg warmers and all–so I was bopping along to the beat as I picked out my snacks.
And apparently I wasn’t the only one. After a few lines, I heard one of the cashiers start to sing along with music…softly at first, but then louder and louder. Then a customer joined in. And then, a few lyrics later, another.
I’m pretty sure you know what happened next. “Eye of the Tiger” is apparently 1) known by absolutely everyone and 2) impossible to NOT sing along with when it comes on the radio. By the last verse, every person in that gas station–yours truly included–was belting out the lyrics at the tops of our lungs. It was like an unplanned flash mob and everyone just accepted that we were a part of it. When the song ended, we gave ourselves a round of applause, accompanied by a few “WOOP WOOP!!”s and whistles….and then went back to being normal, boring shoppers going about our daily business.
And people say musicals are unrealistic because people never just spontaneously burst into song. Pfffft. Please.