You know those epic moments when for example a Backstreet Boys song comes on the overhead when you're wandering the aisles of a supermarket, and every word seems to be about your life right now, and you're filled with a strange euphoria and sudden deep affection for '90's American pop music, and you can't help but look at the checker and say "Me encanta esto cancion!" in the hopes of a confirming reply that won't affirm that you've completely fallen off your rocker?
Well this was definitely the first time this has ever happened to me, and the checker's confused laugh didn't sufficiently refute my conviction that the aspartame in all those diet cokes or the chemicals in all those Bp plastic containers I've put into the microwaves had accumulated and finally caught up to my brain functions. I mean, I never even like Backstreet when they were big!
I took a deep breath, stepped out onto the sidewalk away from any speakers and decided that there's no reason to fight the feeling (seriously it was euphoric). It must just one of the symptoms of living in another faraway and unfamiliar culture, that small nostalgic sentiments that you never even knew you had in you bubble up when you least expect it.
But Backstreet...really?
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