Copenhagen Fiasco-

The alarm comes smashing through the silence of 4 am like a branch through a window from the wind. I awaken to the stinging eyes of “too early” and the hurried anxious feeling when getting ready for an early morning flight. Quickly I splash water onto my face, make a peanut butter rescue sandwich and eat a hearty bowl of multi-grain rice crispies. These details are important because they will prove to be some of the highlights on an otherwise very overcast day, both figuratively and literally. Slide into my boots and open the door to the still dark and raining cold of the morning and see the red devil eyes of the taxi in the driveway. We step in, and we are off. This ride will prove to be the first gnawing ants of my day. Nothing too disappointing, but I receive some critiques of my job performance and some requests to change some things. This is to be expected and I am ok with the idea of getting critiques and the idea that I will mess things up from time to time. It is early, and there are multiple things to be discussed. It is slightly disheartening. I can have little complaint though because I will mess things up, and I will do things differently.

We arrive to the airport, sit and wait and share a pleasant conversation in which I realize that all men no matter the age, citizenship, or class have at least small wonder boyhood playfulness. I feel as though that all men, and the imagination of our childhood, have something they wish they will do one day. We share a conversation about flying. The adventurous conquering of freedom that comes with taking to the air. I remember lying on a trampoline as a boy and watching the jets leave the streaks across the heavens and whishing it were me. I would dream about flying with the freedom to choose where I could make my great escape and the Indiana Jonesian adventures it would allow. No surprise, if you know me, Top Gun played a big part in my dreaming and my fashion. I wish I still had that bomber jacket and aviators I was wearing on my 3^rd birthday, or at least the picture.

I board the plane and take my middle seat, squeezed in tight between a lady and a very tall man that looks like Keith Moon. The flight is smooth and quick and I land in Copenhagen at 7:30 AM. I leave the airport by metro and proceed to a coffee shop to have a coffee and waste some time before I go to pick up my visa. I stop by a Baresso coffee shop at the end of a very long canal filled with large ships. I love canals, especially here in Europe where all the ships look a little older and fill me with the desire to sail the seven seas. I have my coffee and stare out to the ships and dream of being Sinbad, not he awesome comedian, but the adventurer. I realize between my longing to be Indiana Jones and Sinbad and my affinity towards movies like the Goonies and books by Clive Cussler and Jules Vern that I have always wanted to be an adventurer. I easily get my visa and now have something to add to my collection of country stamps in my passport. It solidifies my latest adventure.

That was all nice, the day itself was pleasant. I wandered the streets of Copenhagen the best I could against strong forceful wind. I wind my way down cobblestoned streets and through high bushed gardens by the sea. I walk through an immense courtyard surrounded by buildings that in the overcast grey of the early day look even more majestic and ancient. Walks like these transport me to a place without time but before this time. A place where I am not a man in the street but a warrior or king standing in the courtyard of my palace. I take in the sea breeze upon my face and let my mind fill with these fantastical imaginations where I am not just myself but I am the adventurer in a time of adventure. I continue to walk and snake my way through the city, popping on busses and metros and trying to see everything.

I still have a few hours to waste and I am finding myself tired of walking and tired of being awake. After spending some time at a café and finding some comfort food of a McDonald’s cheeseburger I make my way back to the Airport. After some time I find my gate and begin the wait for my flight. This will prove to be the start of a lot of waiting, sweating, and frustration that will get the better of me. My flight has been delayed from 9 until 10. This would have put me in Stockholm at 11 and home around 12. I was tired and already unhappy with this discovery but it did allow me to revisit some of the things I am writing. I edited and wrote a little more on Bananie Annie. It is a children’s adventure book I am writing. It chronicles a young girl and her rainy day adventures in which she travels the world and finds herself rescuing princes, and saving kingdoms all with a little help from her stuffed lion friend that magically comes to life to help. In her first adventure she travels to the land of Londexi, where the evil Queen Kelley Bell has cast the kingdom into darkness and cold in exchange for youthful beauty and power. Annie must rescue the rightful Prince Dastion to return order and sunlight to the many creature of Londexi. So, at least the wait allowed me to continue that story along with some editing of a movie I have been writing for a while. The hour delay has come and passed and now we are informed that there has been a baggage union strike and the wait is indefinite.

Indefinite until 10:30 when the flight is cancelled and we are told to head to the SAS transfer center to get booked for tomorrow. I hurriedly head in that direction to find myself in a sea of 1,000 plus passengers all stranded. It will become a true airport nightmare. I take my cue number 1,136 and notice on the screen that we are at number 505. Shit. I find a seat and wait in a smaller room just behind the main crowd of people. In this room I hear stories of how this will affect business meetings and all other types of travel tragedies. One couple will now miss their flight in Amsterdam and Barcelona and then home to the States. This will be a total loss of already purchased tickets and now it will cost about 3,000 dollars to get them home. SAS will not help or pay because it is not affiliated with SAS airlines. This is why people hate airlines and unions. Luckily my travel nightmare is just because I have been awake for 24 hrs. and walking all day. Still, I wait and wait. I wait as people get angry, sad and then finally around 2 AM sleepy. People leave and book their own flights most stay and let SAS book our hotels and next flight. I stay, until 3:40AM. I hate everything by this point. I find an open window and get my ticket for the next day and a voucher for a cab and hotel and one for 75 Kroner for food from the 711, no drinks of course. After six hours of waiting on top of 14hrs of day I just spent in Copenhagen I am very tired and smell like a sack of butts. A well-dressed sack of butts that is about to keel over.

I get to the Cabinn Inn hotel. It is nice and has a very Nordic design. Sleek and elegant with no wasted space. I check in and head to my room. I enter the room and cannot get the lights to come on. Great, I thought, just what I needed. I grab the phone, propping the door open with my foot for light, and call down to tell about the no lights. “Did you put your room card in the slot on the wall?” she asks. I just think to myself “Hell no. What the !!??” and then I see it and enter my card and there was light and it was good. I then notice the room is decorated in my favorite shade of blue, there is a TV and a shower but all I care about is the bed. I hop in and find that my one hour nap on the airport chair will give me just enough of a second wind to make falling asleep difficult. Yet I do, and I wake up later that day and head back to the airport. I grab some snacks with my voucher and sneak in a Coke and head to my gate. Finally I will get back to Stockholm. I arrive to my gate to find that this flight will be delayed. An hours and a half after my scheduled time we depart and I am on my way. The flight is ok but I feel a little left out. The open mouth breather behind me must have been given a shit sandwich just before takeoff. I was offered no such shit sandwich but I would get to smell open mouths the whole flight. Yay. I land in Stockholm and, after walking the length of the Airport twice in attempts to find the exit, leave and grab a taxi. I get back to Djursholm and try to leave the past 24hrs behind me.

None of what went wrong was that bad for me I just had to wait forever and was tired. I was lucky compared to most that were stranded. I did get to see Copenhagen in a new light, write some more and observe people in the airport, which I like. All in all it was a stubbed toe of a day filled with frustration and mumbled cursing under my breath. It could have been a broken arm of day or a cancerous sucking pit of airport horror. I am lucky and although upset still love the Adventure.

My Last Year- A Quick List

February 2010- Starred as Tom in "Fat Pig" by Neil Lebute in Nashville, TN. Worked with a great cast and received some positive feedback and good reviews.

March-May 2010- Worked for vitaminwater marketing products. Worked VIP at the film fest and had a beer with Michael Clark Duncan and a conversation which he said " ...well your a good loking guy, well spoken, do it, man just do it." Ha, I thought it was cool. He is very nice.

Jan-May 2010- Helped plant 4,001 trees in the Nashville area with Thomas from soundforest.org. Check it out.

May 2010- I headed into the southwest to work for the Southwest Conservation Corps. I moved all my things into a storage unit, packed my car and went to Tucson, Arizona to live in a tent high in the mountains for a few months. I worked leading a crew of young conservations into the national forests of Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado. I would train them to build and maintain trails, work cross cut saws, chainsaw and live Bear Grylls style. Loved it. Loved my time in Tucson.

September 2010- Moved from Tucson to Durango, Colorado to lead another crew for a different SCC office. Durango is a great place with an amazing hostel. Met some great people and worked some really great projects like Canyon of the Ancients and the 20 miles back-country on the Continential Divide Trail. Saw a herd of Prong Horned Deer, cousin to the Antelope and watched the Aspens of Colorado change from green to gold literally by the hour.

May 2010-October 2010- Lived 110 days in a tent outdoors and lost 35 pounds.

October 2010-March 2011- Moved to Telluride, Colorado. Great views and cool little town. Met a great friend and Spent a few months with Anne after being apart for 6 months without seeing each other. Worked as a Bartender at a large resort, hated it. Telluride may be a great place to visit but for the most part it was a terrible experience. If you like showering, or looking like you didn't sleep in a dumpster you probably wont be comfortable living there and most of the people will make try to make you feel bad for not knowing as much about skiing or subarus. Mostly trustifarian types who have the luxury of not having to look presentable or have any passions other than smoking weed and pretending to be poor. I know it sounds harsh and it is not all the people there but I had a terrible experience the entire time and was surrounded by selfishness and filth, but I did love the view, loved skiing, loved time with Anne and meeting a great person who I consider a great friend...Slow Motion you know who you are.

March 2011- Traveled to Stockholm, Sweden where I will become an Au Pair for a family. Write, and try to see as many places as I can, work as many jobs as I can and one day turn it into a TV show where I will travel to new places work new jobs hands on and find out how the world really works.

Today. Explored the city, planned a visit, dreamed about the future, thought about the past and what a ride I have been on and then made this list.

"The winds of change are blowing wild and free..." The winds of change are blowing in full force this day. Bringing dust up from the ground to dance down the distance of the tracks as I sit beneath the shaking of the trees and watch as the dust rises and falls, to be washed away in the melting snow. Winter is dying by the second and giving way to the waters of spring here in Sweden. On a bench, by the tracks, I silently sit and take in the idea of change. All around me the cold wind blows with the mighty desire to turn itself into the warm winds of summer. The Earth shakes, and I sit as a solo audience to it all. The melting is giving way to muddy feet and to an excitement in the air. I train into the city to enjoy a walk in the sunshine and to feel the oxymoron-ical warm-clod breeze flying through my hair coming from the aged green brass rooftops of Stockholm's Ostermalm. People are out in numbers to enjoy the sunshine and to enjoy a fika. Fika is best translated as having a coffee and snack, most commonly a pastry, just for the fun of it. Swed's love there fika and there coffee. I read that some Swedes have 4.5 cups a day. It does help to fight against the blustery winds of winter and the last remaining sea winds that seem to bowl one over with their force. Stockholm is a large-small city. It has a population around the size of San Francisco. It has within its limits many, many cafes where you can find Swedes and people from around the world enjoying a fika and watching as the change from winter to spring is happening outside. I walk the streets trying to contain my smile and resisting the urges to dance or at the least walk to the rhythm of the song in my ears. 

Music is a wonderful thing, it has the power to inspire and the simplicity to provide a soundtrack to your life. My soundtrack for traveling will act as recall mechanism for which I can remember these walks with just a listen. Years from now I will listen to the same songs, maybe at home and maybe by accident in a cafe in another foreign land and smile as I remember the wind and the sunshine of the coming spring. Maybe one day I will be in a hard place in life and one of these songs, attached to one of these experiences, will help shine a light on the shadows and inspire me to push myself as I am pushing myself now. Currently my soundtrack is full of Sam Cooke classics, Bruce Springsteen providing a lyrical picture to connect me with my home and America, Otis Redding and Adele bring some soul. I am not sure if there is a more smile inducing melody then the opening and first line.." I've got sunshine on a cloudy day..." This comes across my playlist and I cant help but stop walking, take in the sunshine by the sea, and smile. I don't care who sees. It is a moment like that, a moment of clarity, when all the trouble in your life seems to melt away like the snow, if only for a moment, and you stand in the spring of  life soaking up the sun. I am literally soaking up the sun and I am also thinking of how lucky I am. This is hard, I mean it is hard to be in strange land alone. Being away from all familiar is almost unbearable. Fear of defeat, fear that this could be in vain is a constant battle inside me but in moments like these, with just a simple lyric, provide relief from the fear and a pure and simple happiness and warmth. I continue my walk, with a little bit of soul, through the streets of Ostermalm and I think about songs I may not know that can provide a new soundtrack. I wonder what other peoples travel or life soundtracks are. Seriously, I would like to know so share if you would like. Maybe I can hear one and think of home and when I write about it you can be here with me traveling too. After a little train misadventure, which I can't avoid, I find the right one home and gaze out of the windows watching the ice breakaway across the sea as the spears of sunlight break through the clouds. I listen and contemplate the day, my choices and what is next. I have been talking to someone in the film industry here and hope to get to collaborate on some writing sessions and hopefully spend some time in front of the camera. I am working on setting up a day to head into a bakery and learning how to make traditional Swedish treats and find out some more of culture and the pastry's long history in that culture and sharing that here with you.

A frigid salty Archipeligo breezes blows up from the sea and I soak it up, as well as the sunlight of an early Swedish morning, on my face. I am walking by the water on my way to a boat tour of the city. In Stockholm the people are eagerly and impatiently awaiting spring and the sunlight that has been gone for so long. Days like today make people rush into the streets. It is a great time to be in Stockholm. The cafe's are starting to move things outdoors and everyone is wearing a smile. I am loving it, all of it. The water, the sun, the people and that nervous stirring in my stomach that come with new surroundings. I am in awe of every building. From the Cathedrals and the Palace to the old apartment buildings. It all has so much history. I enter the boat and head to the top look out deck to find a seat. It is a pack house and as the lady on the microphone said, it is like the Tower of Bable with so many different languages represented. We start out and pass the Royal Palace where I saw the changing of the guard. We also pass the Vasa museum, which is an old viking warship that sank on its maiden voyage in the harbor. It seems like an odd thing to immortalize but it does look just astoundingly beautiful and is tied to a huge cover up of the time. I will be exploring the museum and the ship this Sunday. We continue on and see many villas and royal residences along the coast. The tour is ok, the sights are great and I am also treated to a piece of Swedish culture. Every Thursday or Lorsdog in Sweden everyone has pea soup. It is a tasty yellow pea soup in honor of a fallen king. Many years ago King Eric XIV who was poisoned with pea soup. It is a neat tradition and everyone does it, it is also followed by pancakes for no apparent reason. These are the little pieces of culture that make me love traveling. Stockholm is a magnificent city and I can't wait to explore it further.

Anticipation grows as the time draws near. In my confusion of the importance of the Melodifestivalen I assumed it would be just a neat cultural experience. I was highly underestimating how big this is. The evening starts at a small French cafe near the city center where the food was fast but very delicious. I indulge in the fish and pomme frites. A side-note, fries are pomme frites and chips are chips here. The fish is fresh and crispy on the edges, with the little bit of fresh lemon squeezed on top it is nearly perfect. After dinner we share a coffee and we each have a small but rich chocolate mousse topped with creme. Now we are headed to the event of the year and I still have no real idea how big it is.

The vehicle crosses the bridge and the city is a shining diamond and the sea glows in the moonlight. I am lost in the beauty of Stockholm at night. The snow still shimmers but the ice is melting to reveal the water below. The lights of the city glow brightly as I stare awestruck by just the passing by of the buildings but the kids seem not to notice. The excitement for whats to come is too great. We draw nearer and then, at once, GLOBEN!!! The cheers come from everyone in the car as we come into view of the Stockholm Globe arena. It is a massive stadium sphere resting just near the water as though it might roll right it. The lights are shinning bright all around the arena and the huge Melodifestivalen logo is projected on the side of the Globen. As we park and I see the massive crowds I start to realize that this is not just some concert. This is a massive and once in a lifetime event. I am very lucky to have tickets, and to get to share in this part of the Swedish culture. I am told that the Melodifestivalen is an annual singing and song competition that takes place in all of Sweden. The winner goes on to enter into the European finals, taking place this year in Munich, and to be very famous. We enter the stadium and make our way to our seats. Large arenas always fill me with an excited anticipation and with the added cultural aspects of the event this walk to my seat is fueled by this. I look around in all directions and take in the magnitude. The Globen is packed, nearly every seat is full. We find our seats in the floor section. I am lucky enough to be here and now I am even luckier to have such great seats. Everything from the car ride to walking to my seats seems magical, a surreal feeling as though I am living in a dream.

The contest begins. There are ten artists and then voting. It is the American Idol finale but only in a language I can't understand. Lucky enough some of the songs are in English, though it is not music I would ever listen to. though there was one great song by an artist called The Moniker. The song is called"oh my god". It was by far my favorite song of the evening and the third best song in overall voting. The crowd favorite seems to be the Justin Bieber of Sweden with a song called "Popular". It is a terrible song but the kid can sing and dance. Everyone is loving the event, singing and dancing and spending a lot of time explaining things to me.

With the Melodifestivalen behind me now I look back and know that I was lucky to partake in that night. It truly is a staple in Swedish culture and a really good time. I now have a ton of crappy pop songs stuck in my head but it is worth it to have experienced it. I look forward to many more experiences like that and many more magical moments. I am living in a dream.

I am a southern man. Give me some tight Levis, a fine pair of boots and now, thanks to my girlfriend, a form fitting long sleeve Henley and I am alright. I like my tea sweet, believe in southern charm and kindness and even a little southern draw. There are many things about the south that are negative but I find that to be the case most every place I have been. No matter how far I go and what I may be doing the south is always on my mind, and most recently my belly. After having spent 6 month working in the mountains I managed to shed 40lbs but after having spent 1 month back in the south I managed to acquire about 10 extra pounds of baggage for my trip. I have had many an acting professor and director try to get the country out of my accent. Many times I feel they and I have succeeded but I know it is still there and it doesn't really bother me. I mention this because I found myself in a discussion about the south here with the family I am visiting. It is a peculiar thing to not have your accent recognized as other than American. I was asked to describe how a southern accent is different than just an American. I. There is where I start, the I. I show how somehow the I becomes its own word with a word. I try to describe a scenario where you can envision a long and slow moving, stagnantly hot and humid, July night from the front porch of a house somewhere on some farm in nowhere Kentucky. The sound of the summers echo loud above the sound of footsteps on the old wooden floor. Here, in this world, it takes just a bit longer to say our vowels because we have no where to be and a world that is moving slowly around us, why not our words as well. They seem to find this amusing and I'm sure hard to understand as it only ever reaches 77 degrees in the summer and the winters are as long as a baptist preachers Sunday. Here, amidst all this snowy white, I think of the green of Kentucky and Tennessee. I think of cavity inducing McAllister's sweet tea over a conversation with Shannon in New Orleans and I think of how,, regardless of the negative, I am proud to be a southerner. I strive to be a souther gentleman. The Swedish lifestyle, aside from the mass quantities if heart-clogging good food, is much akin to the southern lifestyle. The people are very welcoming and inviting and that same southern kindness can be found from nearly everyone. There will be no long and sweat filled summer by the creek, there will be no Dreamland ribs or collard greens but I am finding that the food and the people are all very nice. I am glad to be starting my journey here.