Hard-Knock Life

Remember that story about how I got lost this afternoon? Well...

I went into Copenhagen to meet up with Ryan and Liza from Wes, as well as a few other DIS kids and Ryan's Danish roomate, Toke (whose name suits his lifestyle, if you know what I mean). We went to the L.A. Bar, which was a great scene. They were playing oldies by the Beach Boys and Little Richard, everyone was dancing and draft beer was 20DKK (4USD) a pint. We headed onto a street corner to finish our Tuborgs, and the girls promptly got accosted by a group of Danish soldiers who left Afghanistan 3 days ago.

Background: The Danes have been a part of "Operation Enduring Freedom" since 2002, mostly supporting the American and British troops in main battle tanks. 15 Danes have died in combat. (source: wikipedia, and Emil. more on him soon...)

"My" soldier was named Emil, and he had fought in the tanks on the frontline in a mostly British battalion. When I asked him why, at age 22, he risked everything in his life - well-knowing the consequences - to fight in a war that didn't directly concern him, he answered quickly, directly and honestly. "I wanted to do something bigger than myself that I can tell my grandchildren about."

That blew my mind. I thought of my grandfather, the college-educated farm boy who enlisted in the airforce during World War II because he believed in American and helping his people in Europe. That heroism has always amazed me, and I was impressed with Emil's foresight into his legacy. And he seemed sincere! I don't think he just wanted to impress the tipsy American girl who was just really excited to be talking to a handsome, older, foreign soldier with an adorable accent (part Danish, part Brit).

He asked me why I came to Copenhagen. I talked about my desire for independance, my concern about the sheltered life I have led for the past 20 years with few risks, yet many calculations and concrete plans. He seemed unenthused. Of course he would. He literally risked life and limb. I am risking missing a semester of partying and Scott Higgins sightings. Whoop-de-friggin'-do.

I thought about our conversation/kicked myself for not getting Emil's number on the train ride back to Dragør. When I arrived at the last metro stop, I waited alone and in the dark for 15 minutes. I didn't feel too concerned (I am in one of the safest cities in the world, after all), but when my bus sped past the stop without hesitation, I got concerned. It was the last one of the night.

I called Jacob, my host dad. It was about 12:15AM. I asked him what to do. He said they were sleeping and I should just hail a cab at terminal 3. Before I could ask how that would be done, he hung up. I followed the signs to terminal 3, but they just took me back to where I was before. I started to freak out. It is pitch black, the airport is deserted, I am not entirely sober, I have no idea what the signs mean and... and... I was just about to start crying when a cab came.

The driver spoke English, thank the little lord baby Jesus, and I tried to tell him where to drop me. I don't know my host family's address, so I tried to name the bus stop. He had a hard time understanding me until I wrote it down. As soon as he got what I was trying to say, we were off. I was so relieved and tired and tipsy that I starting crying.

"Why are you crying?" he asked me, "what is there to cry about?"
I explained.
"That is nothing!" he said, though not in a mean way. "You are fine! Everything will be fine! I come here from Albania not knowing anything and I am fine. My mother, she has no home and she is fine. No cry, now, no cry."
I giggle-sobbed at his kindness and apologized for being a big baby. I wasn't in my right mind, I said, trying to find an excuse.
"when you have no money, then you can cry," he said.

Well didn't I feel like an asshole. I am no hero for coming to Denmark. My adventure here is only daring when compared to my reality at home. In the harsh, cold, real world (not the MTV version of hot tubs and bisexuality), I am a coddled Westerner, privileged in every way. I am no Gramps or Emil or Albanian cabdriver, doing something greater than myself. I am spending my youth selfishly, despite my attempts at helping the greater good (which as all still so calculated and safe).

With that perspective, I am going to pass out. Tomorrow is a new day.