Copenhagen is quite bipolar when it comes to its atmospheric preferences; one day there’s bright sun over clear blue skies, next minute it feels like the world’s water is coming down on you. Yesterday was one of those days. Before leaving the house, I looked out of the window and thought: “Yeah, it seems like it’s going to rain. Should I pack some extra clothes, just in case? Nah, is fine, my jacket would do. I’m just 10 minutes away, I’ll get there before the first drop falls.” – Confident in my calculations, I got on my bike and left. Forty-eight seconds later, a bloody thunderstorm broke overhead. I’m talking about hail and rain and lightning. You know, the kind of encouragement you need to get out of bed and cycle to work.
I tried to cycle as fast as I could but the thought of skidding on my bike quickly made me reconsider my approach to the situation. I also figured that the faster I moved, the harder the hail was going to hit my face so I slowed down and took it easy. Just when I was a couple of blocks away from the office, as I stopped at a traffic light, I thought to myself: “Actually, this jacket is pretty good. I’m not that wet.” – I hadn’t even finished that sentence in my head when a passing bus tidal waved me and four other cyclist who were also probably thinking that, all things considered, they were not that wet.
By the time I arrived to the office, my upper body was relatively dry but everything else was totally soaked. Soon I discovered I was not alone.
Those are my team mates, working in their underwear while their trousers hung from the ceiling waiting to get dry. I actually packed an extra pair of trousers at the last minute so I didn’t have to strip in the office but I still, I spent the whole morning walking around barefoot and pointing a hair dryer at my shoes.
Then, I got a message on Facebook from one of the guys I had met on Sunday. He just wanted to let me know that I hadn’t managed to make them believe I was the super cool housemate they were looking for. Not that I tried, really. I just went there, had a quick chat and then left. I suppose I could have made an effort but after a few minutes they had explained me everything I needed to know, I didn’t have any questions, and neither of us seemed keen on pushing the conversation any further so that was that.
Fortunately, it wasn’t all that bad yesterday. In the evening, I met up with Hannah and Alice and went to Tjili Pop, a cozy bar that had an open mic session going on. I didn’t pay much attention to the guy who was playing when I got there but I think he was ok; regular guy with a guitar, probably singing about love and broken dreams. Then there was a girl with a keyboard, who would explain what each song was about before playing them, and that at some point kindly asked some guys at a table next to ours to please shut the fuck up while she performed. An unusual way to win fans over but hey, what would I know?
Funnily enough, the same noisy guys that keyboard girl was pissed off at were the next ones to get on stage. Now, I don’t know any Danish so I couldn’t understand a single word they said (sometimes I don’t understand Danish for my own good) but I’m pretty sure their songs had the cheesiest lyrics ever. You could tell by the way the guy on the left passionately clenched his fists while singing. Once Hannah and became aware of the potential tackiness of the songs, we just couldn’t stop making silly jokes about it. During a guitar solo, I told her: “If this was a video clip, this is the moment in which we see this guy on the edge of a cliff, with the wind blowing in his face as he shreds his guitar” to which Hannah replied: “Yes, and there are storm clouds behind him, and it rains, but he doesn’t get wet because his pains is so strong that keeps the rain away” or something along those lines, I don’t know. It was terribly silly but very entertaining. Not happy with her contribution, Hannah decided to make the evening even funnier by spilling her beer in the most dramatic way possible,. I’m not even sure how it happened but she managed to cover herself in beer in a matter of seconds. Very impressive.
A couple of beers later, it was time for me to call it a night. Now I’m sitting here, a day after, typing this with a scarf around my neck, feeling how a stupid cold slowly builds up inside of me. Collateral damage from yesterday’s wetness, I suppose.
My eyes are closing. My nose is running. Time to feel sorry for myself…