"If Copenhagen were a person, that person would be generous, beautiful, elderly, but with a flair. "
"Let's have a 12 hour layover in Denmark!" said no one ever.
No one except this idiot and his best friend. To be honest, as much I would like to recount the details of this extended layover in painstaking detail, it's been a while since the trip occurred, so whatever I can recall won't be as entertaining as the things I do remember- everything I bitched about. Why is it that life works like that?
I still have damming flashbacks to my suitcase. While my best friend waltzed through perfectly manicured grass with his backpack, sweat began collecting in all the undesirable places of my body as I lugged my 50 pound suitcase, filled with all of the necessities required for a white collar internship, across the city.
Don't get me wrong- Copenhagen is a stunning city, where every single view reminds you of a Thomas Kinkade painting. The people are extraordinarily friendly, the harbor vistas breathtaking, and the expanse of cobblestone pathways almost too perfect. However, when you've already been traveling in the same pair of clothes for over a day and lugging around a lead box over meadows and miles of cobblestone streets, it's hard to appreciate the serenity the city had to offer.
After exploring the various alleyways of Copenhagen, and before my forearm felt like it was about to fall off, we trudged wearingly, into the airport at 11:00 PM. An absolutely empty, lights out airport. (I guess nothing really does go on in Copenhagen). We checked in over 8 hours before our flight was scheduled to board, but I gratefully brushed my teeth in the airport bathroom, plopped on an extra layer of deodorant, and tried my best to get some shuteye. Nearly 24 hours of traveling done, and 10 more until we were to land in the gastronomic motherland of Italy.