One night in Bangkok and the girls...
wait -- wrong country.
Wonderful, wonderful, Copenhagen...
I have just returned from Sweden and Denmark! The primary purpose was to attend my friends, Steven and Kajsa's wedding. --Which was fabulous!
But as usual, there was a secondary purpose -- HAVE FUN!!!!
First stop was Tivoli Gardens - the second oldest amusement park in the world. As I was strolling ('cause that's what you do whilst in Denmark - stroll), I was suddenly confronted by a little boy with HUGE Bambi eyes crying, "Pappa! Pappa!" Everyone else around was either ignoring or overreacting, so I knelt down, took his hands and started talking to him. Within a minute "Pappa" came around the corner (he was waiting on the wrong side of the ride for his son to exit). Bambi wouldn't let go of my hand. Hot Pappa thanked me, and asked me if I'd like to join them for a bite. Yes, yes, I was hoping Hot Pappa wanted me to bite him, or vice-versa...
-no such luck
-alas, Hot Pappa was actually Hot Widower Pappa -- of six months. Over the course of the next hour (eating and strolling), I realized that he was unavailable.
Not like that's new for me, eh? I am constantly attracted to unavailable men...
I bid Hot Pappa and Bambi, "Farvel" (goodbye).
I happened to be in Copenhagen during the Jazz Festival, so there was amazing music to be heard everywhere. As I headed (dejectedly) towards my hotel, my ears were enticed by the music coming from a corner bar. "Why not?" I propositioned myself. Hey -- no one else was, so I might as well pick myself up. I pulled up my big-girl-panties (figuratively, of course), headed in and took a seat.
The waiter mistook me for a local (happened more than once), and asked for my order in Danish. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm American, and only speak English."
"An American!" erupted the table behind me.
Preparing to bolt, and murmuring apologies, I began to rise -- until The Travelers (their name for themselves) explained that they had been collecting countries (!!!), and had yet to find an American for their group.
I became their American. We stayed there for a few hours, until the waiter told us we should head on down to an Irish Pub a few blocks away.
Irish pub + The Travelers + alcohol = Irish Drinking Songs gone wild.
One clothing change (hey, I was still in amusement park attire) and freshenup later, and we found ourselves with steins and voices raised.
I don't remember HIM walking in -- or HIM joining our group. But suddenly, I was aware of HIM. This hot guy sitting next to me, singing Irish songs, accidentally (not) bumping me, and talking to me:
"Excuse me, but - did you know - your eyes -- your eyes are the color of the Italian sky?"
Pull my hair, throw me on the floor-what happens in Copenhagen stays in Copen-
"Sorry? Are you talking to me?"
He repeated the analogy -- and by then I was a puddle of goo.
I was trying to get control of the goo, drag McHottie out of there by his hair, when I heard this soft voice in my other ear:
"Hello."
"Oh, APj - I want you to meet my wife. How would you like to come home with us?"
"Oh.....Oh my. Ummmm....thanks......but.....um......no thanks. I kinda like veggies...not so crazy about....the....fruit"
Yup - I left. Alone. What happens in Copenhagen -- happened without me.
