Thursday, February 28, 2008

copenhagen > amsterdam > jfk

By Pauly
New York City

On Sunday, Nicky slept in and when she eventually woke up, we headed out to explore the city. She had been working all week and had not seen much of Copenhagen. We started at the Little Mermaid and the citadel, walked the Storget, headed to Christiania, and then finished up with a walk through the Latin Quarter and the rest of the Stroget. I managed to sneak a few pics in Christiania and those appear in the post from yesterday.

On Monday, I had one of the magical days that I never thought was possible. Breakfast in Copenhagen with Nicky. Lunch in Amsterdam. Dinner in NYC. Three countries. Three meals. One day. Lots of flying in between.

Yeah, we both had a 10am flight out of Copenhagen to Amsterdam. Nicky had a connecting flight in Amsterdam to Los Angeles. My connecting flight to NYC didn't leave until 6pm. I had several hours to kill. I said good bye to Nicky and then went to get my bags.

For some reason, they made me re-check my bags in Amsterdam. I had to waste time waiting for my backpack to get pit out onto the belt. Then I had to lug it back upstairs and waiting in a long check-in line and then stand in another line to drop off my bags. When that ordeal was over, I hopped a train to Central Station. I arrived at 1pm. I had to be back at the airport by 4pm or so, which gave me almost three hours to kill.

I headed right to a French bakery for a ham and cheese sandwich on a baguette. It was the first real food that I ate in days! The food sucked in Denmark. Tons of herring and weird mayonnaise. I stuck to fast food as much as it appalled me.

After lunch, I headed to the 420 Cafe. I hung out and read my Chabon book. I wandered over to Pink Floyd. I drank hot chocolate and read some more. I walked over to Dam Square and I watched the people walk around. That's when I walked back to Centraal Station. I hopped on a train back to the airport.

My KLM flight was slightly delayed. My flight had an influx of highschool girls. They looked like they were 14 or 15 and some sort of teen tour. By the accents, they sounded like they were from New Jersey or Long Island.

As one Scottish guy said to me, "It looks like I'm caught up int he cast of High School Musical."

I never saw it, but I picked up what he was getting at. They were some sort of troupe. And they were loud.

I sat in the middle... in a three-seat row all by myself. Some of the high school girls were back in my section. They weren't that bad. It was much better than the slew of Ethopian refugees that were on my flight home from Amsterdam last time. The bad part were the crying kids two rows in front of me. That sucked.

I watched the Metallica documentary Some Kind of Monster. I downloaded it on my iPod. I enjoyed it a lot... a popular band struggling to keep it all together.

I welcomed the food service and ate every bite of the rubber chicken and rice. They gave us chocolate ice cream for a dessert snack mid-way through the flight.

I watched a couple of flicks. I finally saw Snoop a Woody Allen flick. It took place in London and starred Scarlet Johansson and Hugh Jackman. It was comedy-murder-mystery. Too bad Scarlet didn't get naked. Anyway that was her second of three Woody Allen flicks that she's done.

I also watched a British flick called Death at a Funeral. It was a dark British comedy with an ensemble cast of Brits. A dysfunctional family comes together at their father's funeral. A stranger arrives and it's their father's secret homosexual lover, who is played by Peter Dinklage, and he blackmails the family. My favorite scenes involved the guy who accidentally took LSD when he thought it was Valium. Hijinks ensue.

I also caught Superbad. Again. I fuckin' love that movie. One of my favorite scenes is when the cokeheads at the party think Evan is "Jimmy's brother" and they make him sing. He sings These Eyes by The Guess Who. Here it is...

Click through to Tao of Pauly to view video via RSS

Anyway, my flight arrived late. Immigration was a breeze. My bags took forever to spit out onto the belt. But, lucky for me, the taxi line was only eight deep. My cabbie was a fast driver too. I gave him a $15 tip.

The pizza place was still open and I was able to get a slice. One of the best slices of my life.

I sorted through my mail. No paychecks. A couple of bills. Lots of junkmail. But my Langerado tickets arrived. Along with a couple of books.

When I woke up on Tuesday, I weighed myself. I lost ten pounds when I was in Europe. I've dropped 15 since I got back from New Zealand.

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