+ how to make a biker fear you
13.07.2008 19 °C
This is a long(!) account of what happens when I'm let lose out on the town.
I think that I have been adopted... serveral times too
First of all by a group of people in "the kings garden" in Copenhagen, sekundly by some druk geeks in "Victoria bar" and finally by a couple from Norway at a push cocktail bar I stumbled into.
first things first; I went to Copenhagen to visit my "little brother" and to say my goodbyes to this great city before my trip. I decided to go to "The Kings Garden" to tjeck out this facebook event.... I belive that there most have been about 5000 people there, so ofcorse I was sitting all by myself, reading in a book.... well not for long though. A girl came over and asked me if I wanted to join her and her friends and help them drink their wine... I had no problem with that at all. Nice people and we had fun even when a American guy joined us and started yelling at us in some sort of cheap, plastic megafone. He even started lecturing us about the history of Denmark... strange.
My brother came with some keys for me and the whole group looked a bit stunned.... I'd forgotten to tell them that my brother is african, and more of a bonus-brother .... ofcorse they wanted an explanation
When the park guard threw us out we all went to a bar around the corner.
I got drunk... really drunk!!! I remember leaving the place while doing some budhist-like chant and spend the next ½hour trying to find the walking street.... It was just in front of me:D
I'd like to give my thanks to the two guys who helped me walk in a straight line....
well slowly I sobered up, well at least enough to apreciate the street proformers. A guy from Australia playing and singing all these moodfull songs, and an american circus-artist with a really fake british accent dressed as Indiana Jones while standing on a wire above a pit full of fake crocodiles.
The crocodiles made me think of "Australian bar" and I headed that way, but was intercepted by a great song coming from bar Victoria(Crowed house; Weather with you). I orded a beer and a guy dressed as doctor from the 1040thies took me (unsolicitated) under his wing. I'm afraid that I never asked him why he was dressed like that... He had just returned from the US where he'd lived for 7 years and he'd missed the danish women, he told over and over. I told him and his friend about my forthcoming trip and the friend, who confieded in me that he was a geek, tried to convince me that Hong Kong is situated in Japan... 20 min later he was still none the wiser, and the last thing I heard him say to his friend as I left the bar was; Is Hong Kong a part of China?...
Next stop was another bar... again I was lured in by I man playing a guitar... He was playing a really great version of Leonard Coens "halleluja"... during the song the guy sitting next to me, who looked like a bizare mix between emimen and a hells angels biker with his big red beard, tatoos up and down his arms, muscels and white track suit, leaned towards me and told me in a deeply moved voice "It's really a shame that the guy who wrote this song is dead"...
"what do you mean" I asked him... "Leonard Coen's not dead. He just played a concert here in Copenhagen last week!". "No, no no, he IS dead, he drowned, and it's really sad"..."Listen" I said "Leonard Coen wrote the song and he's still alive... Jeff Buckley however, who did a cover of the song, drowned while taking a swim in the Missisipi."
But still the guy didn't give up (and neither did I)... "let's make a bet" he said, and reached out a hand as if to make a quick deal or to scare me off. Normally I never make bets, I hate the odds of loosing on a guess, but this was to easy a win to let it pass, so I too reached out a hand and said with the biggest, confident smile "fine... 3000kr" thinking he'll never follow through. The guy looked at me as if I was an easy target mixed with a bit of disbelieve, he grabed my hand and said "10000kr" (something clicked inside my head)..... we shoke hands and started to talk about how we should call the bet, and decided to ask the singer, who was just stepping down for a break.
I'll never forget the look on the poor guys face as he realized that he'd lost... he keept on arguing with the singer for about 10minutes. In the meen time I'd been talking to a friend of the biker, and I asured him that I'd never intended to claim the money... I just wanted to see how far he would take it.
And then the biker was gone... he left in a hurry out the back door, leaving me only with a stupid story to tell. His friend (Philip from France) told me that the biker had told him that he had something he had to do.
Outside the bar the singer was having a smoke and when I told about the bet he laughed so hard he dropped his cigaret. We agreed that I had to be the most unlikely person to scare of a biker.
On my odyssey through the Copenhagen streetlights I had finally made it to the "Town-hall square". For a while I stood there looking at the neon lights and the motion billbords.
"Hi!" someone said behind me.... "are you going home?" It was Philip the frenchmen from the bar. I told him that I had things to do the next day, but he saw my camera and asked me weither I was a photographer.. I said "not really".
his english was very bad and it was clear that he only understood about half of what I was saying, and sometimes when he didn't know how to say things in english he just continued in french. Strangely I understood some of it, which I found out later would come in handy.
He told me that he was an illfaithed writer and he let me take his picture, adding that he was a no-body, a servant to the masses, and that no one would be interested in looking at his picture. He tried to smile, but it faded in the neon and all that was left in his eyes was a plea for mercy. Hoping that he didn't look like he felt.
We agreed that we'd both had too much to drink..
so we stood in the heart of the city and the night and talked about art, writing, photos, his daughter, life and ten good reasons why I shouldn't see his hotel room. His moves were never that convincing nor confident, he just thought that if he asked me enough times, I'd cave in... That lonely man.
We ended up at a really push cocktail bar just before closing time and quicky we made some new friends at the bar. A swedish guy insisted that I should stop speaking pretend-swedish to him:D (I can't imagine why that would bother him) and he tried to teach me that it isn't allright to only drink coca cola at a bar, and offered to by me a real drink. I kindly declined, and he started telling me about the bartenders private life.
In the meentime, Philip had managed to tell the rest of the people in the bar that I was a writer. This, and the fact that I as a joke had just told the swedish guy loudly, that; "Me, I'm a freaking genius!!", sparked the attention from the bartender/actor... I tried to tell him that in some ways I was a writer but at the same time I really wasn't, and since I was still a bit drunk I'm not sure he understood my "brilliant" argumentation. Instead we started talking about burbon.
A woman called me over, and together we drank some "Marker's Mark". Her and her husband (who didn't say a word, but only smiled warmly at everyone in the bar) were here on holliday. They wanted me to come and visit me in Norway. I should just give them a call and they would come pick me up at the airport.
A beautiful blond woman was sitting alone in the corner of the room in at party dress drinking a lonely cocktail. She looked like a somebody, going somewhere. At one I realized that she was watching me intensely and I felt uneased by it. Thinking why is she looking at me like that. Then I took a look around and realized why; somehow everything that happend in that bar had something to do with me... I was the one that interduced people, I would be the one that people turned to for a translation when the french guy made no sence, when I laughed people would stop and try to find out why. when I talked they listned, If I didn't say anything they would pick me up and make me coment on whatever or they would want to know more about my trip.... I'm not used to that kind of attention, and I surely don't seek... and realizing the situation made me paranoid and strangely calm at the same time. I enjoyed hanging out with those people, not because of the attention, nor the freedom in not knowing any of them but because we were basicly the same type of people. Night Owls... We refused to admit that the night had to end ..it felt like a Edward hopper painting, and time had come to leave it.
Outside the door some african prostitudes waited, hoping to catch some lonely souls. I tried to send them a smile but they looked away. I went home to my bed, knowing that I would miss this city.
To my dear biker-friend in Copenhagen.... don't feel sad, I'll use your money wisely, or at least try too. Just send them to me... I'll send you a postcard from Norway.
now it's time to get a little sleep before work... I blame singStar night in Aarhus at MT's place for my sour throught:D