Copenhagen: Day 3

"I'm pretty sure you are being recruited by Isis."

One of my hostel roommates has just gotten back from the 'best night of her life.' There was this wonderful Danish boy that bought all of her drinks, paid for all of the taxis, got them a hotel room, had tons of cocaine and managed to rip off five rounds of sex.

But he was also Palestinian. And in the army, but not like the Danish army, something different.

He's going to visit her in London soon and I imagine he will drag her back to Syria to become an Isis sex slave. Or maybe he was just like every Persian dude in LA that likes fast cars and wears too much gold. Probably that.

Day 3 was a fucking whirlwind. It will also be remembered as the day I was hungover as FUCK at Tivoli Gardens. Tivoli Gardens is essentially Six Flags if there were also 40 5 star restaurants at Six Flags. But as we covered earlier, I am exclusively eating Wok this trip. So I was there for the rides.

As someone that grew up going to Disney World, King's Island, Cedar Point and Great America, I know my way around an amusement park. But this is something I take for granted as an American. A lot of foreigners have never been on a roller coaster before. They flipped their shit over things like a roller coaster with an inverted loop or the drop zone type rides.

I just worried I was going to vomit on to some poor unsuspecting tourist below. I did not vomit. This made the day a success.

Saturday night was the last night for all of the friends I had made in the hostel. They wanted to go out hard. I wanted to go to bed, but I'm a trooper so I walked upstairs to my room and took vodka shots by myself until I felt lubricated enough to be in public.

All the homeys also desperately wanted to get laid on the last night. It was a big topic of discussion at our table during happy hour.

Me: But how does one close when staying at a hostel?

New Zealand: The shower; duh. It locks and everything.

Scotland: There's more space in the bathroom. Just put the seat down and have a go.

Australia: Oh fuck it, just shag her in your bed, this is a hostel, people know what they're getting themselves into.

Fontana, WI: Ya I bring ear plugs and an eye mask everywhere for that exact reason.

People at Coachella were less savage than this group.

So we all make plans to visit each other some day and begin our tearful goodbyes before Scott (A real life Scot) tells us that we will be going to a Scottish bar called The Basement. I walk in and instantly notice a foosball in the corner. In my limited experience in dealing with Scots, if you want them to like you, being good at foosball is a good start.

I am good at foosball.

Four straight wins later I was chanting and dancing with the boys and they were buying me drinks. This is when the Danish girls started to notice me.

'Are you American?'

How could you tell?

'Danish boys don't wear Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirts.'

I see.

I've noticed some super strange things about the Danish culture so far. First, they are weirdly affectionate. I'm not talking about PDA either, I'm talking like bro to bro touching or sibling love. I sat in an hour long line at the theme park yesterday behind some 24 ear old dude who was inappropriately fondling his 12 year old sister the entire time.

Or maybe it's just OK to fuck 12 year olds in Denmark, and I read that situation totally wrong.

The other thing I've noticed is that their taste in music is atrocious. I have heard no less than 14 Linkin Park songs since I've been here. And they fucking love it. It's like they are stuck in an 8th grade vortex of 2001 when Rap/Rock was cool for like 2 weeks. I bet Limp Bizkit still sells out shows here. Anyway this has a point I promise.

I'm dancing with a cute Danish girl to something reasonable like J Cole and then I go to get a drink because I have instituted a one song policy to avoid overheating (sweating like a maniac)

But she stops me...

'Wait! This is my FAVORITE song, you must dance with me.'

The song? Sean Paul 'Temperature'

I thought maybe she just didn't want me to leave and go find another girl. But she like really LOVED it. So much so that she asked the DJ to play it again later in the night, which he did.

Eventually, all of my friends found someone to go home with, leaving just me and Scott and a smattering of Danish girls that would probably go home with either of us out of boredom.

'It's 4am man, I think I'm gonna hit it.'

You can't Dave, it's my last night.

'I'm done man, I can't chase the night.'

All right, I'm gonna stay, I've got 2 hours left to make something happen.

And I'm sure he did. Me on the other hand? I crawled into my top bunk with the odd realization that my trip is only halfway over. Tomorrow I'm going to have to make new friends at the hostel. Maybe they'll be from Canada, maybe Spain. I don't know yet.

I do know that in just 3 days of traveling solo, I've learned a lot about myself, the similarities and differences between seemingly similar cultures and how the world views us.

So far this trip, I've been the token American, but as my hostel family pointed out, that's not always a bad thing.

Ok happy hour is about to start. Tomorrow you can learn what it's like to get smashed at a FC Copenhagen match with a bunch of Danish high school kids.