Of Fights and Fiascos

I promised myself, I’d save this writing bit until I got on the plane home. That way, I’d have something to do for the two hours. Chances are though, I might pass out from being too tired, or even try chatting up whoever sits beside me. I may not have gotten any in Denmark, but the concept of getting some over international waters with some attractive stranger is like the porn film, I hope to write, direct and star in some day.

Join the mile high club at thirty seven thousand feet

Been there, done that.

I WANT A NEW TOOL BUS FULL OF OLD GUITARS..

Sorry, I was having a moment. One based on the catchy, cheesy but generally shit song by Nickelback.

As a wannabe writer, I also have plenty of material that can be summoned from the right side of my brain.
I have an entire chapter on stoner philosophies that needs to be translated from the thoughts of Conor into the format of electronic text.

Anyway, this blog entry serves as a way of trying to calm myself down. The rest of this entry, probably isn’t going to be funny, it’ll attempt to be thought provoking

I wrote a long post on TOTSE (a website with forums, I go onto all the time) about what happened last night, so I’ll do a quick copy and paste (I’ll edit it slightly too) to recall the situation:



“So I was out drinking tonight and this guy did this really wierd thing with my back. Rather than push me to the side, or tap me to move, he put his hand up my t-shirt and was like ticking my spine, or at least that's what it felt like.

I let him past and for the next few minutes to shake off the awkwardness. It did not feel right.

It's not a case of homophobia (I‘ve no problem there at all) - the guy was hitting on girls and stuff, he appeared to be straight. I also have had gay guys pinch my arse or shit and I can deal with it. It can be a little bit awkward, but you can laugh at it. Touching my back in that way, was not right. Me having a

So I walked over to him and told him, not to do it again, firmly, explained what he did. Without being violent or threatening, just a stern "do not do that again." There was a little bit of a language barrier because he was Danish and of Arab (I’m reasonably sure he was from somewhere in the middle-East) descent, but once he gathered I only spoke English he started getting confrontational.

"Are you fucking with me?"

"I wish I was man. Just don't do it again."

“Are you fucking with me?”

“No, I am not fucking with you. I’m just telling you what I felt and not to do it again.”

After this, he got a little , putting his hand on my stomach, so my friend (Mark, you’re a hero) dragged me away.

Now, I didn't want a fight. I’d like to think I wasn't afraid of one and maybe to some degree I was, but I wasn't talking him out of one. I had a couple of issues at the time, I heard my mother’s disapproving voice in my head and I could have done without being thrown out/bouncers having issues.

So we went downstairs in our group. He followed and got in my face again. My friend pulled me away and so did his friend. We left for a few other bars.”



There’s the first part of the post. Now, that was my “written statement” last night, I had about five pints, so I wasn’t per say “pissed”, but I was less than 100% sober. I was also a little shook up.

After the original incident with the Danish/Arabian guy, I was a little bit pissed off with myself and how I had gotten confrontational about something I should have forgotten about. I didn’t need to tell the guy not to do it again, I could have just ignored it. Maybe part of me was trying to play macho or something and get the guy to acknowledge what he’d done and agree not to do it again. Maybe part of me wanted him to cower a little, but I don’t see how this really would have helped. With four pints in me, my judgement was a little clouded and I really do not like my back (used to have back problems that could be damn sore) being touched.

Now thankfully, no-one in my group took too badly to the incident where it had happened. It meant we got to see a few other places, that were pretty good - one place was very cheap whilst it was open, another, had a nice ambience and allowed us to pick a lot of tunes, which were at the time, a series of hip-hop beats being blasted out, such as Snoop, Eminem, Dre, Coolio,Wu-tang and uhhh, the Foo-Fighters (cos they’re really gangsta). Despite having a good time, I still felt like a fool, letting some form of macho pride mess with my decision making process.

I figured I could have handled that guy, but seriously, if you’re with friends, they’re gonna look out for your best interests and get you out of the situation. Probably quite wisely, before somebody did something stupid - he may have been smaller, but he liked to bring his beer bottle around with him everywhere. Like I’ll explain later, how much I can actually fight is another story.

Here’s the second part of the post:



“Later on that night, I saw a guy being attacked by four-six guys. I slowly walked towards the fight and with a bunch of other guys, managed to act in a sort of protecting circle around the guy being attacked - kind of getting him away, before he walked to fight them again or they charged at him.

In fact, us getting him away almost wasn't stopping them, if it wasn't for the sound of sirens, they would have kept coming.

The thing was, I could have acted sooner, to stop the guy getting into too much trouble, but I started thinking about my own skin (and perhaps to some degree, my mother having a go at me for getting involved/putting myself at risk).

Without being stupider, I'd like to be braver/more equipped to handle a situation like that.

I know if I saw a friend in a one on one fight, I'd let him fight it out, unless he was getting wailed on, in which case I'd drag him out of there/try and step in to get him out of there.

A random guy in the street though, what would you do?””



So yes, I was walking home from that cool nineties hip-hop bar (it looked like a kind of classier and smaller version of Revs), I witnessed the whole Scottish-guy getting the shit beaten out of him. I don’t know of the events that led up to the situation as I didn’t see anything other than halfway through the fight, which I stopped, watched for a second to do a double-take as to whether it was a real fight, before I started pacing towards it very slowly, unsure of what I intended to do.

He took it well, cos he was a big guy and managed to get on his feet despite being booted in the face. He could have had worse. At one point, one of the guys attacking him charged at him with a big plastic post used to separate off the street from a construction site and he narrowly dodged it, was fucking impressive.

What this reminds me of, is those tv shows or films where somebody is attacked or beaten to death and people walk past, not getting involved. I’ve always thought to myself “if I was walking past, I’d do something”, but having put myself in the situation last night, I barely did. Adrenaline in such a situation can give you that “fight or flight” reaction. Where you either get the hell out of dodge, swing a crude right hook, or piss your pants. In both those situations, I felt ill. I wasn’t going to have anything pre-emptive with the guy who was picking a fight with me in the bar and it was the same with the guy on the street. In the one real fight I’ve ever had in my life (will tell that story another time), I took the first punch, not gave it. I didn’t run and fight one of the guys hitting the Scottish guy, because I knew it could have made things worse and perhaps not just for myself. I didn’t hit the guy in the bar, because that would have been deliberately starting a fight, when I believed it could have been avoided.

As a kid, I grew up loving the idea of being the warrior, the cool hero who won every fight and maybe that has stayed with me a little. I -like- to believe I can fight and I like the idea of being a force to be reckoned with, that people in bars are going to avid having a scrap with because of size and coolness, but when it comes down to it.. I probably can’t fight for shit. As anybody who has ever hit me in the face (Jewface, Yakob, some random spides!), should know as long as I don’t get punched in the nose, I can take a dig in the face. Being able to take a beating does not equate to being able to give one though. Then you have fear of a fight, which can be caused by a lot of things. Whilst you don’t really feel the injuries until the next day, you start thinking on what you have to lose from even a punch. Intelligence, charisma and “good looks” can all go to waste in a couple of slugs.

This thing reminded me a lot of a couple of conversations in Lancaster. In flat one of house twenty eight, we were rampant face book “compare people” users. For those of you who don’t know it, compare people is a program that allows you to compare your friends against other friends in various categories ranging from best looking, to most useful. Two of these categories came into question one night as our favourite Jewface kept voting me “not as powerful” as somebody else, often a girl, or “less likely to win a fight” than somebody.

Whilst I still manage to rank eighth toughest, for a while I thought I deserved a higher ranking. As much as I’d like to believe “I’m hard”, I now realize, I’m really not. The theory is of course, yet to be fully tested, but I think most of the time, my bark is worse than my bite. I still feel, “I can handle myself”, but I need to stop acting on this belief. It’s not smart, or cool. Which is probably what I’m trying to be, by letting silly shit like touching my back in a weird way nearly get me into a fight I should be afraid of.

I think in the end, I tried to do the right thing with the Scottish guy, but it was only after I had more support, whenever there was three-four other guys stepping in. Safety in numbers. Two of the guys the Scottish guy had been taking a beating from looked ready to charge at us. I near shat myself - they looked quite tough, luckily though we were saved by the bell of sirens as I mentioned earlier. I could have gotten that fight that would have tested my mettle. Might have moved myself up a few face book ranks, (lol). At least the guy was okay afterwards and I can say I was brave enough to put myself in a position of potential danger.

I’m still planning on going to Muay Thai again over the Summer, try and give me a bit more confidence, so that I don’t get all fearful in a situation where I, or somebody else is under threat. At the same time, I need to start using my head more. When I’m in a face-to-face one on one confrontation with someone (they do happen from time to time), I front a little. Generally, I’d much rather have a good time, party, drink, flirt, so if some guy is potentially trying to start with me, I try and approach things calmly, stress that I don’t want any trouble. At the same time, I don’t want to act up like a chickenshit and begin wailing “I’m sorry man, I’m sorry.” blah. Maybe, I should just humble myself to that level. I need to stop thinking I’m Tyler Durden as well.

Song of the Day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=98i4s9iKBQo

Procrastination. Rhymes with playstation, ramification, wash hand basin and mastur..

Yeah. I should really write a song on the art of doing nothing, or at least, putting your work off to a later date.

I mean, I spent a day writing a blog entry, only to decide it sounded border-line self-pitying, downbeat and unhappy. You ever noticed the way its difficult to sound cynical and happy at the same time?

I then spent another day acting out my own ad-libbed words to the famous Afroman song.

I was going to write three pages, but then I got high. I was going to get a first, but then I got high. I was going to read some pages about Denmark..
But then I got high, then I got high then I got hiiiiigh
LADADADADADADA

If you want to know the reason why I haven't done that much of the essay, I'll give you the question:

"Discuss the characteristics and scope of the so called 'Danish model'. Exemplify within topics of your own choice."

I was taught once, the best way to tackle an essay question is to start off by taking apart the key words and thinking about them.

Discuss - my immediate reaction is: No. Do I have to?

Characteristics - stop using big words.

Scope - Every time I hear this word, I think of SUSAT (Sight Unit Small Arms Trilocks), that's the thing on top of a rifle

Danish Model - Ever watched the Bond film "Tomorrow Never Dies" and thought that blonde chick he was nailing at the start of the film was the hottest bond girl in the film? That's because she's a Danish model. Here's an example of what happens when you google image search Danish model:















And another:













Now by my exact calculations about one in seven Danish women look this good. I'd like to write an essay about beer and how it has affected people, but God damn..

Alright, next we have the phrase "Exemplify within topics of your own choice."

Well I have already picked breweries and beer and its effect on the Danish population. Which means, I have to scientifically and historically go deeper than:

The Danes like to drink beer. Danish beer tastes nice. I like Danish beer.

Now, I have read a lot and analyzed the situation from a philosophical and socio-political angle and I have come to a conclusion:

I don't give a shit.

I'd really like to say I don't belong in academia, but lets face it.. I was never a born laborer..

I've kept this one short and sweet. Like a good kiss. Aww.. sweetiee..

Sarcastically yours,

Conor

Song of the Day:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=czyfws7OLCs

Monday was a whole other kettle of fish compared to most days in Copenhagen so far. It was potentially one of the worst days I've seen in the city weather wise. So the saying goes - it never rains, but it pours.

It made getting around the town a little harder to do, so my Mother and I were constantly having to rush from place to place with a cheap umbrella over our head, darting from cafe, to shop to closed museum to closed museum.

That's one of the few problems with Copenhagen. There's not that much to do on a Monday, other than maybe shops and cinema. When your art loving mother comes over, you want to show you've grown and matured into your years as both a student and a human being. She listed a number of places she wanted to go to and so I did my best to take her round some of them. One of them was Christiania, the former hippy commune, I've undoubtedly talked about before. When she first suggested it, I warned her of the nature of its excess - the first thing that hits you is the sweet, sweet smell of hashish. I told her she probably didn't want to go there, that's where I met my Danish friends.

"Ah, are they drug takers?"

I nodded and gave this awkward smirk. "Sometimes."

"Are you a drug taker?"

Caught off guard, I froze in silence for a fleeting moment. "That depends on what you mean by drug taker. I suppose I am though." At any other point in time, I probably would have laughed at the phrase "drug taker", due to how outdated and inaccurate it actually sounds, this point though, I couldn't.

I can't remember my mother's facial expression at this point. I felt a minor adrenaline rush, as if I was an animal backed up against a wall, unable to escape. I don't even think her reaction was that bad either.

"Really. What drugs do you take?" likewise, I don't remember her tone. It was somewhere between curious and disappointed.

"Oh you know, smoke a little weed here and there.. but I've tried other stuff."

"Like what?"

At this point, I listed the other types, that I've tried (I don't make any habit of anything). I'm not going to list them here because its incriminating evidence, I've done enough by admitting that I smoke weed. Not that I'm a-feared of cops banging on my door, because that's entirely unlikely - I neither deal, grow, produce or supply any thing to/for anybody which is who they'd come after, but things like this may come back to bite me in the ass. At one point in my life, I considered joining the military (read the earlier post where I mention the OTC) and whilst I don't think I will, its better not to rule things out. Similarly, I know in twenty years time, if I ever wanted to run for political office, people would probably care less about what I've done/may do in my "wild student years". I know that if I ever want to make bar (unlikely, but I'm not known for my firm decisions in life, I might turn around five years later and decide I want to be a lawyer or some such), they'll only take into account whether I have prior criminal convictions. My fear would be companies who may scope out exactly who I am before they hire me. They may decide because of what I've taken they'll rule me out in favour of a less qualified yet more willing to obey the law type. With them, I can't pretend I am some crack pot bullshitter, or even that I wrote the entries in moments of temporary insanity because that would be painting me as at least a little unstable.

Her reaction to the list was initially of complete shock and concern. She talked about what it might be cut with and I talked her around to the "drug taker's logic", about how I understand what I'm doing, I look into it before hand before I take it and I don't take anything that's likely to be mixed with rat poison or heroin (or coke/crystal meth, anything like that I have never tried and never will), things I have taken to be niche drugs; not generally in high demand, so they'll just be weaker variants rather than watered down. It'd be bad economics to mix them with rat poison.

Later on though, we stopped by my house to pick up a couple of jumpers so that we could endure the sharp chill better as we walked around the harbour area. I didn't want her to come into my room, insisting that it was too untidy for her to see. She persisted and after realizing it wasn't that untidy went and looked for what I was attempting and failing to conceal - a desk loosely covered in grains of tobacco and grass.

"That's what you were hiding. That looks recent. How often do you smoke?"

"About twice a week." At this point, it was a half-truth. It would be about twice a week, if I didn't see that much of my Danish friends. Like I say - good company, bad influence. But I was honest about a few things, I'm intending to stop soon, or at least cut down severely. This is down to two reasons. One; it's going to get harder to acquire once Gordon likesitinthe-Brown gets it moved up to a class B drug because he's an idiot who likes to divert people's attention from things that actually matter, and a number of other reasons which may or may not be related to:
Physical and mental health
Lethargy/motivation
The appeal
Money

I've basically edited this bit down because it's border-line whiney, the summary is if you keep doing something too much, no matter what it is, sooner or later, it'll catch up with you.

But back to my Mum's reaction. Overall, it wasn't as bad as expected. I think she doesn't judge or worry as much as I believed she might. She'll always worry of course, that's what she does as a mother (if your mother stops worrying about you, I'd grow concerned). There's no escaping that fact, but I don't think I've changed in her eyes. I'm still her little boy and she still trusts me like she always did. She didn't yell me down, or even give me the classic "I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed" line. I was really relieved to have gotten it off my chest.

Her reaction is something I would like all non-drug takers to consider
That's exactly how I hope I'm treated by people who read this, a shade of understanding - instead of a weak and incredibly shallow "You take drugs, I don't want to have anything to do with you" response, judge people by their character. Not their habits.

Similarly those who take drugs, shouldn't be thinking "Oh, they're not cool; they don't want to take stuff with us." I mean, I was guilty of thinking that from time-to-time when I was younger, but like I say, I'm friends with everyone.

A friend of mine on the bus heard a girl ask her friend if they were going to my leaving do. Her answer was "No, they're all drug addicts in that house."

At first, all of us who heard this story laughed. Drug addicts tend to be those who take addictive and dangerous substances and depend on, doing anything in their way to get their hands on the drug to keep them going. Apart from de 'erb and beer, there's nothing I do day to day, or on a week to week basis.

Whilst I really shouldn't care what some people think, reputation sticks and misinformed judging hinders what people think.

I gave up drinking for lent, drinking only four times in the space of those forty odd days. I'd be surprised if she could have done the same.

Anyway.. enough critisizing people, that's not what this is all about. I'm far from perfect myself.

So, back to the Copenhagen situation..

What the fuck is Denmark's obsession with Australians..
First of all, they have two really cheesy soaps shown during the day time. And yes, I mean cheesy. As in, they're akin to BBC's doctors, meets Home in Away. Mercy Beach or something..

Then you have "STARS", a fifteen minute show about movie stars, voiced by this whiney nasal Aussie guy talking about Julia Robert's screen "dayboo". It's pronounced like a french word, day-beau, you kangaroo molesting fuck (sorry Jake, you know I love your kind really, but you'd hate this guy's voice as well)

The show makes me beg two questions though:
A) Who gives a shit about Marcia Gay Harden?

B) Why doesn't Orlando Bloom get an acting coach?

Then you have Miami beach patrol. It may not have anything to do with Australia, but it is about as pointless as the other few. Now, COPS can be quite entertaining, but that Miami beach thing is just irritating. They spent about four hours catching some lobster poacher who shot one with a spear gun.

Seriously, there were about four police officers surrounding him and making sure he didn't run off. I may respect that important endangered species like elephants and tigers need protecting from poachers... but this was a lobster and not even any special kind of lobster, just a regular boil it and eat it kind.. So they confiscate all his shit and arrest him and find the evidence that they need to ensure he was guilty of the heinous crime. I'm sure somebody must have been thinking "should you not be out solving real problems?". The worst bit was when somebody went "I'm going to have to keep this lobster as evidence." Seriously. What a fucking dick? If he'd been smart he could have cooked it whilst it was still fresh. As that irritating robot from the Power Rangers once uttered: Ay yai yai!

On an unrelated note, does anyone else have a thing for that red headed girl in Mythbusters?

Back to real life, I got offered a few jobs here. Just after I had booked my flight. Its a shame; I would have liked to have stayed on a little longer, but on the other hand, I'm looking forward to coming home immensely. Missing the place and the people since I only got back for ten days at Easter.

On the women front,

Here is a short list of bullshit reasons why I didn't get any this week (or for that matter the last two months) that include:
Losing two days due to my mother being around
Cute Scottish girls who I -might- (Marc seemed to think so) have had a chance with going back to Glasgow earlier than anticipated
Being too high
Being too drunk
Not being drunk on other occasions (for instance this female friend of a Danish friend was this brunette with pretty blue eyes who was into me, but felt awkward because I was too sober)
Not bothering to call/e-mail some girls I had the number/e-mail of
Not getting replies from some of the girls I did have a number/e-mail of
Over thinking things before approaching - e.g. "what if she wants a relationship?" "what if she has a boyfriend?" "what do I say/do/think if this pops up, or this happens" "what if x/y/z are three lines with correlation on a graph.."
Trying too hard
Not trying hard enough
I'm too nice and gentle around nice girls
Not wanting to seem too desperate (a very difficult thing to do at this point in time)
Passing up opportunities to go swimming with hot Swedish girls because I thought I had other plans (this is the worst one. I can sort of understand the mindset I was in at the time, but at the end of the day it still adds up to one conclusion - I'm a fucking idiot!)

I had some other introspections on this situation (previously written down in the blog, but later removed), but the bottom line is - I'm not really that bothered. I've got work to do and beers to drink, along with a radiator that keeps giving me static shocks just by touching it. I can't let my nuts run my life, I'm not a fourteen year old with chronic masturbation syndrome any more.

I did promise one other thing last time, so here's the beer review. This final section is a little shoddy, so skip down if you're unable to give a shit.
Danish Beer Reviews

Now, I don't know how qualified I am to review beers, because lets face it - there are only a few occasions I am able to recall the actual flavour of the beer. Usually, like all good beer drinkers, I have a number of beers greater than four. At this point one's taste buds are often dulled or dumbed down a little so that all lagers taste pretty much the same.

When it comes to Danish beers though, many of them taste quite similar anyway, so you have to use your keen sense of smell and taste to work out what they're like before you enter drunk mode.

Here's a list though, of the ones I can remember. I'll begin with a list of Carlsberg brewed beers:

Carl's Special - This one isn't bad, a little bit bitter but drinkable
Carl's Ale - I've never been a big ale man myself and I don't think Carl's Ale is any exception. Its swiggable, but its not too good to sip on, there's a bit of a mad aftertaste
Carl's Hvede- I either haven't drank this, or I cannot remember
Jacobsen's Special - The Jacobsen's brew house only opened a few years ago, but the beers are brewed in an old style. Most of them taste quite nice, aged but with a chocolate style flavour
Carlsberg Pilsner - This is the standard carlsberg beer in Denmark. It tastes awesome in comparison to the 3.8% stuff brewed in England. When I drink a beer, I want beer. Not water. This has flavour, a bit of a kick and its nice. I wish they served this on tap in England instead of its womenly variety
Carlsberg Elephant Beer - You don't tend to drink 7.5% beers for their flavour, but even this one isn't too bad
Carlsberg Sport - Not actually a beer and is in fact a gatorade meets mountain dew style soft drink

Yes, I understand you're surprised that Carlsberg make so many. In fact, they make more, just these are the ones I actually vaguely remember drinking/coming across.

Tuborg - Tuborg is another Danish brand owned by Carlsberg. Danish people often attest that there is no difference between the two, but if I could take the pepsi challenge between Tuborg and Carlsberg and I reckon I could tell the difference. Tuborg is a much better beer. Unobtrusive to the taste
Tuborg Classic - Classic is for those days you don't fancy regular tuborg. It smells horrific, but it tastes pretty good.

Royal - Just ignore it. It's not bad, but its horrifically over priced for what it is. Its damn weird.

Faxe - Available in litre cans sold in Asda for £1.87 making them great for novelty value. I just can't seem to get a glass of the stuff, but I'm tempted to go down to the Faxe brewery on a day off and get sozzled. Problem is it takes about two hours to get there. It's almost not worth it.

King - Good cheap bottled Pilsner, available from the philosophy bar at the university, where you can also find the secret "medicine of philosophy" room. A room without even a conventional door handle.. Ooh the mystries

Odin's Pilsner - This will become your favourite at 25 p + 10 pant (bottle tax, that you reclaim when you recycle), you get a tasty, refreshing pilsner. It tastes quite watery, but it also gets you hammered if you drink eight or nine of them. Sorry, I don't see the problem with that.. do you?

Odin's is named after a God because for what it is, it was made by a God.

Keep the comments coming guys. I love them all, positive and negative. Though if anyone can relate to anything here, you have to tell me.. that's what I appreciate the most.

Conor