There are songs that bring an emotion to the drunken listener. The pub stands shoulder to shoulder and sings loudly. In Amsterdam they sing Bloed, Zweet en Tranen. In Utrecht they sing Piano Man. In Leiden they sing Lalala Leiden and the Theelied by Tante Theemuts. When we hear these songs we think of the good old days without the problems of today or the hangover of tomorrow.
At a drink in October, now 1406 days ago, a song came along some time after midnight that we immediately realized was "our song". Our number from the good old days. The good old days in which memes were still about animals and not about depression. The time you had no trouble choosing on Netflix, but just watched the same episode of Totally Spies for the five billionth time. The time where you played outside until dark, and ice skated in winter. The time when talent shows were about failing really fast in the preliminaries. That time when the grossest Sinterklaas jokes were still about his sack and not his slavery past. The time when you were referring to the neighbours cat when talking about a “kater”, instead of the three-day agony after a night of metres (of beer), which used to be just a measure of length, by the way.
Darude makes us all think back. We drink on that. Dududududu!
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