GUEST POST GUEST POST! Scott is a buddy of mine from high school who visited over the weekend from Oxford where he's studying for the year. He's good with computers (I have him to thank for Retro-Rags - still coming soon), and he's good at distracting me from doing school work. So while I attempted to start/finish two papers due tomorrow, he guest-blogged about Sunday's cross-country road trip. You read, I think of excuses for extensions.

Århus, in the middle of Jylland...

While there are many-a-Magnus in the phantasmagorical land of Denmark, it's often said that there is room for only one Scott. Thus, it goes without saying that my venture into the land of the Dansk to visit Mr. Rogowsky was marked by almost as much trouble as was caused by a cartoon that portrayed my good friend Moe in a compromising position. Indeed, that cartoon was the inspiration for my journey out of Angleterre and into Denmark, despite Scott's impression that I was coming to visit him. As I wrote about in my college essay (Common Application, question 2) entitled Coloring Outside the Lines "...[C]artoons have been my passion, my guiding light, and my source of masturbational inspiration." When I heard a cartoon from the Jyllands had become so popular, it was necessary that I embark on a journey to those parts to investigate said cartoon, its maker, and its intended audience.

After arriving at the Copenhagen airport, evidently sponsored by Ikea, I took the S-Train into the city and began to ogle the selection of fine Danish women. Despite the fact that I was placed next to 400 pounds of Dane that required a seatbelt extension on the way over, Scott's insistence that the Danish women were second-to-none was quite accurate. After settling into the Kollegium, Scott decided to introduce me to Danish culture by forcing upon me an ancient form of Danish torture, the hardwood floor mattress. While my gracious host cuddled with his teddy bear on his Serta Perfect Sleeper, I enjoyed the pleasures of fine Scandinavian maple. You can bet I woke up refreshed and ready for a day of travel.

The trip to Århus - Denmark's second largest city located on the Jutland peninsula - was rather far by Danish standards (about three hours), so Mr. Rogowsky had decided to rent a car to take us there in style. The smoothest part of our journey was the bus ride to Budget rent-a-car, which only stopped every third block. When we got to Budget, our temptress/receptionist Trina showed us to Ms. Clio - a miniature silver hatchback with a standard transmission. Danes, with names like Magnus and 6-foot tall girlfriends, have an aversion to automatic transmission and will only drive and rent standard cars. Unfortunately, neither of us Scotts could drive stick. Mr. Rogowsky decided to attempt the drive, having dabbled in manual driving once before, and got us as far as a busy intersection before deciding that he had broken the car. Something about burned gear boxes and a busted engine. He called Trina, hoping she would come by with a tow and then invite him back to her place for a massage, but her words of encouragement over the phone were enough to sooth him into getting the car moving again, and we were off to the island of fun, Fyn.

The only town with more than 12 people on the island of Fyn, Odense, is also the birthplace of the only person in Danish history known outside of Denmark, Hans Christian Andersen. Odense is also the funniest possible name for a town, because it sounds like you're beatboxing when you say it fast. Untz untz untz. As you might know, Hans is famous for his inventive fairy tales, ogre-like appearance, and probable penchant for pedophilia. After parking at the local Netto, we Scotts made our way to the House of Hans where we learned the following fact: tickets are optional in Danish museums. What did Wikipedia tell us that the museum didn't? Hans loved to masturbate. He also could have starred in a movie called The 70 Year-Old Virgin, because, he died a 70 year-old virgin.

After some parking lot practice with Ms. Clio, we finally got back on the road to Århus, the jewel of the Jyllands - the City of Smiles - which is embarrassingly small considering it is the second-biggest city in the country. However, we were determined to make the most out of our Sunday night in a strange locale. We first settled in at the City Sleep-Inn where our receptionist was a fan of English-language comedy, particularly Howard Stern and Adam Carolla (who "has a funny opinion on everything"). He showed his appreciation for America's finest export by shouting "Bababooie" whenever we entered the lobby. He also made us pay for sheets (in a hotel!). After I hustled Mr. Rogowsky in a game of billiards, we sated ourselves at a Mexican restaurant, owned by an Iranian, where we conversed with an Indian who was in Århus on business. From there, we spent a good deal of time admiring the décor of a fine "Amerikansk" restaurant called Bones that consisted of a canoe bearing the Washington Redskins logo, a variety of baseball collectibles, and the odd bit of cabbage from last week's coleslaw.

Our night ended with a few drinks at Bar Ris Ras before taking to our beds at the hotel. The next morning was rather uneventful, except for Scott demanding a free driving lesson from the receptionists at the hotel - the same receptionists who charged us for sheets. I must say, however, that his ability to drive a manual car has improved greatly in the past few days, and our drive home saw less than 65 stalls. Congrats!

As for the cartoons, the closest I ever got to Moe was lunch in Odense where a Middle Eastern lad made me a fine pizza topped with meat from seventeen different animals.

And so to end this post on a positive note, I will tell of tonight, when Mr. Rogowsky and I, after eating some Thai food, ventured into Freetown Christiania - a noble experiment in which young Danish men and women attempt to return to the old-world values of community, honesty, self-sufficiency, garbage fires and drug running at the site of an abandoned military barracks. We saw many noble young Danes gathered around fiery garbage cans fuelled by their own broken dreams. As the smoke rose from these bins of hope, I looked towards the sky and thanked the Nordic god Thor for my brief yet eventful stay in this land of Vikings.

-SB