Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Copenhagen: Day 5


Look at this dog.

It's cute right? This dog is a good boy. He looks to be some type of Spaniel/Terrier hybrid. I would hang out with this dog.

This fucking dog is a narc and he almost got me deported.

Allow me to explain...

On Day 5, I decided it was time to spread my wings a bit. After all, it would be a shame to come all the way to Europe and stay in one city the whole time. Instead, I decided I would take a 30 minute bus trip to Malmo, Sweden for the day.

Running late, I just threw on an outfit I had already worn this week and jogged to the bus stop. As I boarded the bus driver asked me if I brought my passport.

'Going to Sweden isn't like it used to be.'

I didn't understand what he meant, but I boarded and buried myself in my book.

The next thing I know, we are crossing the beautiful Oresund Bridge from Denmark to Sweden. Shortly thereafter we are pulled over at the Swedish border.

Immediately 6 POLITA officers board our bus and start checking everyone's passport. EU folks and Americans like me face limited scrutiny, but the Romanian sitting next to me is given a hard time. What are you doing in Sweden? How long will you be here?

See it turns out, Indiana isn't the only place that doesn't want a fuck ton of Syrian refugees. Sweden is just find with their homogenous Nordic population, so these border checks are fairly new. I assumed the process was over until that fucking dog boarded.

A little Romanian child runs down the aisle yelling 'puppy!' The Swedish cop swatted the kid away with such callousness that for some reason I began to feel nervous. But then the little drug dog came right up to my row and jumped on my lap.

'What the fuck is this?' I'm thinking. I have had a drug free week! I have nothing in my pockets! I guess I took a few hits of a joint at Christiania 2 days ago, oh fuck, am I wearing that shirt?

The dog then turns his interest to the Romanian and really starts giving him the business.

'Sir do you have anything to declare?'

No.

'Sir are you carrying any drugs?'

No.

'Sir have you been exposed to any drugs?'

Well, yeah I'm on vacation...

The border cop is not amused.

'Please come with me sir.'

He turns but then pauses, looking directly at me.

'You too.'

Oh, I don't know him. I live in California. I don't even know where Romania is.

'Sir, please step off the bus.'

We are taken to a back room where men with gloves search us for contraband. It wasn't full cavity or anything, but slightly more intense than an airport screening.

'And what is this?' A Swedish cop has just found a pre-rolled joint in my Romanian friend's pocket.

'I must have forgot.'

Deport him! The American is fine.

And just like that the Romanian guy was sent walking back toward Denmark while I boarded the bus to finish the trip to Malmo.

The rest of the day was fairly insignificant. I read a book in a Swedish park while drinking some truly horrific Swedish beer. I went to a museum and learned about the secret Swedish buses that rescued Scandinavian POWs during WW2...oh and I had some more Wok. Sweden has great wok too.

I got back to Copenhagen just around sunset and had a pint on the Nyhavn (it's what you see when you google Copenhagen) then I spent the night playing darts with some University of Waterloo kids that are here studying abroad.

One of the girls is the social chair for Kappa and she wanted to know all of my stories for being a real life American frat boy.

'OMG SO YOU GUYS LIKE HAD A HOUSE?'

'Ya, 100 people lived in it.'

'AND KAPPA WAS ALLOWED TO HAVE THEIR OWN SEMI-FORMALS AND DRINK?!?'

'Ya it was called Kappa Kapture and only the coolest people on campus got invited.'

'OMG AMERICAN COLLEGE SOUNDS AWESOME!'

That new Mike Posner song comes on. I point at the speaker.

'We had this dude play in our back yard.'

I lose in darts for the third consecutive game to some 19 year old kid with an almost comical northern Canadian accent and decide it's time to go to bed.

I make it upstairs to find that i have 5 new roommates, all chicks from Barcelona. They are passing around a bottle of Jameson.

'Tu bebes Jameson?'

'Si. Yo bebo Jameson.'


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