Last night I discovered that an empty soda can on the road has the potential to knock you off your bike in a matter of seconds. Somehow, I managed to ride over it and the little bitch got stuck on my front wheel, made an awful noise and then stopped the wheel all of a sudden, which resulted in me flying over my bike and landing on the ground not sure of what the hell happened. It was nothing serious, really. Actually, it was a very minor incident if you compare it with my bike accident last year; it just took me a minute to take the can out of my wheel, put the handle bars back into place, and get on my bike again to cycle to this crazy party that was held at TietgenKollegiet, easily the most amazing student house I’ve ever seen.
My friend Vilde, a Norwegian girl I met through a friend’s girlfriend, told me she had plans to go to the Danish Oktoberfest so I went to her house, only to find her and another Norwegian girl called Marte, drinking champagne and dancing in the living room to various songs. We were later joined by Jennifer, a Swedish girl who brought with her an extra bottle of champagne, just in case. A couple of hours later, we were still in the house, discussing what was uglier: penises or vaginas. I, of course, defended vaginas with my life, not only because I’m straight but also because I truly believe female genitalia is way better-looking that its male counterpart. A smooth, puffy, self-contained vulva is simply nicer that some veiny sausage hanging from your waist. Period.
As we argued over such critical issues, our plans to go to Oktoberfest slowly faded away. Once the champagne was over, I bought some beers and just around midnight we headed to this student party, relatively close to where I live. There were probably 200 people in there, most of them well advance in their intoxication process. I went to the bar to get a drink and was told no cards were accepted, which was a major bummer as I didn’t have any cash on me and no ATM could be found around the dorm. I lost Jennifer and Marte, too. One second we were dancing and chatting, the next second they were gone. It must have happened when I turned around to ogle at some chicks dancing next to me. Oh well.
I stood there for a while, not knowing exactly what to do; everyone was way drunker than I was, I couldn’t buy any drinks, and I couldn’t be bothered to approach anyone. I had a strange feeling of inadequacy that ultimately urged me to leave. I’m not sure if it was the age difference, the lack of alcohol, or me simply being a peevish little fuck. Maybe I was a bit intimidated, I don’t know. I suppose I should have tried to enjoy myself a bit more last night but in the end I just went outside, unlocked my bike and just when I was about to take off, a Spanish girl tripped over my bike wheel and fell over, quite dramatically. I asked her if she was OK and she humorously nodded, unable to stop laughing. It was a funny incident. We chatted for a few minutes and then I finally left the party, riding through the empty streets of rainy Copenhagen, feeling awkward and dull.
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Today I was going through Brené Brown’s “The Gifts Of Imperfection” and came across this on page 80: “Sometimes we miss out on the bursts of joy because we’re too busy chasing down extraordinary moments. Other times, we’re so afraid of the dark that we don’t dare let ourselves enjoy the light.” – That last sentence made me think about my sudden escape from the party last night.
There’s a flea market/neighbourhood party in my street, just in front of my building. I went to have a look and found a nice winter jacket for 100kr (a bargain!), which I think might come handy very soon. A few minutes ago, someone was playing The Beatles songs very loudly (a good thing) but now there is a girl with a guitar outside, entertaining the audience as they browse through second-hand stuff on a cloudy Sunday. I really like Copenhagen when I find myself in the middle of this kind of affairs.