a night in denmark i sorta remember

It's as much as if, say, we were there that night.
Or I mean, I was.
And Copenhagen was rusty and swarming. Leaving at 12am after getting rejected from a club because 'YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ARE ON DRUGS. YOUR EYES!' If only. I pulled the big dude aside and explained smoothly/sloppily that "I have done a lot of drugs. this is not one of those times." And then all the sudden we were on the train. One hour ride. Up and down the aisles asking for beer. Copenhagen. The arrival was a quick To A Bar with tequila shots and drinking contests. Then off to the streets to roam. I jumped on a big elephant statue outside a museum next to one of the big, wide roads and yelled while my picture was taken. At some point I will find that picture. I must've looked a fool. Which is so nice sometimes. The city was bursting. 2am explosions. The night was clear-cut, cold, but burning with curiosity and we made our way through a long park pathway up a little hill, lots of green and alongside a river near the bridge, onto the 'otherside' - Christianiahaven. This is where Christiania is. Where I knew I would come when my mind caught a scent of Denmark. It's the hash mostly, the liberation, the darkness and playful flirt with imagined danger. Two people sat outside the commune, one man with a beer and a bloody hand. "A dog bit me in there." But they were happy and we walked in, me in my leather jacket with a cigarette blowing smoke, hanging on my bottom lip. I heard Lennon blasting in the distance - "Cold Turkey." That rawness dripping through the place. We walked up into a club, a little hesitant, but it turned out to be... Electronic music, good beats, good thoughts. Leaned on the bar and finished my cigarette, crushing it on some ash tray. But I had no Danish money. So we left. Without Danish money I could not get what I wanted. You need money to get what you want. I walked to a long table outside, we passed the area where everything was usually sold, where the big bins full of fire tell you where you can get what you want. At the table sat three Swedish guys. They were smoking. I asked if we could have some. They said yes. They asked where I was from. I told them. And they went crazy and told me to smoke as much as I wanted and on and on about all this great getting high business and whatever, whatever, whatever. I was just smoking hard and letting it sit in my lungs. It had been weeks. All the sudden that whole feeling covered me up, slid down my eyes, and knocked me back. My shoulders rolled, i became water-like and leaned against this pole and talked to this Swedish dude in French. I remember thinking, fuck, i didn't know i knew this much French. We must've talked for 10 or 15 minutes. about 5 minutes. But, it was good. We understood each other. I also remember saying something that shut everyone up, that shot negativity through each body. And I stood there, a little tense, and then decided that I couldn't just sit and think about these things, that I must do things and act. So, I said, let's go, and we left, saying thank you with genuine sincerity. I was blown away. I couldn't believe i was here. We walked, goodbye Lennon, through the streets into another bar.