Tiny Bubbles
One of the most awesome TV shows, ever, was The Mole -- not the celebrity edition hosted by Ahmad Rashad, but the regular-people version hosted by my boyfriend Anderson Cooper, in his pre-360 days. Sigh.
Anyway, near the end of the second season, one contestant's task was to sit in a room overnight while the song Tiny Bubbles played over and over and over and over (it was a great episode -- see a recap here). It was great to watch, but I don't think I'd have made it through the night if I'd been locked in that room.
At dinner the other night, at the inn in Virginia, the Smelmooo and I had our very own Tiny Bubbles experience, only with a different song that we think is Nat King Cole's Let's Fall in Love. It was playing when we sat down to dinner; it was playing during the salad course; it was playing during the main course. Finally, the guy at the table next to us asked the waitress if perhaps the CD player was mistakenly on "repeat," because we'd been hearing the same song for thirty minutes.
And, indeed, it was a mistake, and quickly resolved once someone spoke up, but all of us had just been wondering if perhaps the innkeeper really liked that song, or if it was "the song" of one of the couples in the dining room, and didn't want to be the one to bring it up. I wonder whether we actually were subjects in some sort of psychological experiment. I'll keep my eyes peeled for that one: "Yuppie vacationers and their willingness to rock the boat," I imagine the journal article will be titled.
Anyway, near the end of the second season, one contestant's task was to sit in a room overnight while the song Tiny Bubbles played over and over and over and over (it was a great episode -- see a recap here). It was great to watch, but I don't think I'd have made it through the night if I'd been locked in that room.
At dinner the other night, at the inn in Virginia, the Smelmooo and I had our very own Tiny Bubbles experience, only with a different song that we think is Nat King Cole's Let's Fall in Love. It was playing when we sat down to dinner; it was playing during the salad course; it was playing during the main course. Finally, the guy at the table next to us asked the waitress if perhaps the CD player was mistakenly on "repeat," because we'd been hearing the same song for thirty minutes.
And, indeed, it was a mistake, and quickly resolved once someone spoke up, but all of us had just been wondering if perhaps the innkeeper really liked that song, or if it was "the song" of one of the couples in the dining room, and didn't want to be the one to bring it up. I wonder whether we actually were subjects in some sort of psychological experiment. I'll keep my eyes peeled for that one: "Yuppie vacationers and their willingness to rock the boat," I imagine the journal article will be titled.
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