Postcards from my Weekend
1. Being delighted to find the Flying Dog Brewery Hunter S. Thompson memorial beer at GH nation. Best imperial stout I've ever had, although it cost approximately as much as the left front fender of a new Maserati.
2. Lecturing strangers at Smålands nation:
3. Being unable-to-stand-up-drunk and walking the three miles home from Kalmars nation (this was all due to Florian's goodbye pub crawl Friday night, you see) at 2 in the morning alone and in the snow.
4. Elaborate conversations with Josh about cinema, mainly Citizen Kane and Kurosawa. Guy knows his movies.
5. German Ben and Josh and I having a Tom Waits-appreciation preparty at Josh's place, while Florian drank some sort of rum-brown sugar-five lime mix and several girls demanded to watch YouTube videos about shoes.
6. Standing on Goran's balcony, a solid two feet of snow on the ground (this is Saturday night by now) with more bucketing down, and learning to say "fuggeddaboudit" in Swedish.
7. Two parties and five hours later, sitting on the couch in Goran's room with Bergin from Colorado and Goran and some little Swedish dude named Emil and realizing, a) There's a surprising number of Swedish dudes named "Emil" and b) There's a guy passed out in Goran's bed. Then Goran turned to me and said with absolute drunken certainty, "You will always remember this moment." I immediately ranked it among my most existential and said to Bergin that the night couldn't possibly top it.
8. An hour later, sitting in the sauna on the roof of building 4 with nine stark naked women, drinking an ice-cold Corona and thinking Holy shit was I wrong. Sucks for Bergin that he went home.
9. A couple hours after that, piling into a car (I think it belonged to the friend of the brother of Emma, my corridor mate, but I honestly have no idea...we may have stolen it) with our one sober chick behind the wheel, myself in the back seat, and the other eight women piled everywhere else, and attempting to drive to Tijuana.
10. Learning that at the Swedish equivalent of the Oscars, instead of a statue of a little dude, you get a statue of a giant dung-beetle. Swear to God.
11. Also learning that a popular children's show in Sweden consisted of watching some kid with Down's Syndrome go about his daily life and laughing at how he can't tie his shoes or how he falls down a lot.
12. Finding Florian passed out in the snow in the middle of the street. This was at about seven in the morning (still pitch dark, still snowing). His flight had left for France at six.
2. Lecturing strangers at Smålands nation:
3. Being unable-to-stand-up-drunk and walking the three miles home from Kalmars nation (this was all due to Florian's goodbye pub crawl Friday night, you see) at 2 in the morning alone and in the snow.
4. Elaborate conversations with Josh about cinema, mainly Citizen Kane and Kurosawa. Guy knows his movies.
5. German Ben and Josh and I having a Tom Waits-appreciation preparty at Josh's place, while Florian drank some sort of rum-brown sugar-five lime mix and several girls demanded to watch YouTube videos about shoes.
6. Standing on Goran's balcony, a solid two feet of snow on the ground (this is Saturday night by now) with more bucketing down, and learning to say "fuggeddaboudit" in Swedish.
7. Two parties and five hours later, sitting on the couch in Goran's room with Bergin from Colorado and Goran and some little Swedish dude named Emil and realizing, a) There's a surprising number of Swedish dudes named "Emil" and b) There's a guy passed out in Goran's bed. Then Goran turned to me and said with absolute drunken certainty, "You will always remember this moment." I immediately ranked it among my most existential and said to Bergin that the night couldn't possibly top it.
8. An hour later, sitting in the sauna on the roof of building 4 with nine stark naked women, drinking an ice-cold Corona and thinking Holy shit was I wrong. Sucks for Bergin that he went home.
9. A couple hours after that, piling into a car (I think it belonged to the friend of the brother of Emma, my corridor mate, but I honestly have no idea...we may have stolen it) with our one sober chick behind the wheel, myself in the back seat, and the other eight women piled everywhere else, and attempting to drive to Tijuana.
10. Learning that at the Swedish equivalent of the Oscars, instead of a statue of a little dude, you get a statue of a giant dung-beetle. Swear to God.
11. Also learning that a popular children's show in Sweden consisted of watching some kid with Down's Syndrome go about his daily life and laughing at how he can't tie his shoes or how he falls down a lot.
12. Finding Florian passed out in the snow in the middle of the street. This was at about seven in the morning (still pitch dark, still snowing). His flight had left for France at six.
posted by Eccarius | 12:07 PM
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