As I sit here in my tiny apartment in the middle of Copenhagen on Christmas day, I am reminded of what this region must have experienced under the seige of Adolf Hitler. Please allow me to explain.
Okay, there I was, prancing around my apartment, having donned my gay apparel, I was enjoying some nice happy Christmasy music by Dean Martin and Burl Ives. It was beginning to look – and feel – like a very merry Christmas. I sipped my holiday egg nog and truly had visions of sugarplum fairies dancing in my head. Ah, but a holly jolly Christmas.
That is until, large explosions rocked the apartment. I spilled my egg nog all over my gay apparel as I dived under the dining room table to seek cover. The initial explosion was soon followed by numerous explosions. This was definately some kind of carpet bombing campaign, and I was really wishing I was somewhere else. As I laid there on the floor, I was trying to recall last nights news. Had Denmark pissed off Germany? Did the US discover oil here and no one told me? Just why the hell would anyone decide to bomb Denmark on Christmas day?
I layed there, shaking like a little girl at a Britney Spears concert, when I noticed the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. Every single twinkle seemed to say: “target” “target” “target”. Somehow – someway, I had to turn off them lights before the bomber actually acquired my tree as a target and engaged it. This was going to be a perilous mission, but one I absolutely had to accomplish, and soon.
I belly-crawled out from under the table, slowly making my way to the electrical outlet that would turn off the Christmas lights. As I neared the window, I distinctly heard what sounded like children’s laughter. I thought to myself, that’s strange. I now heard what sounded like mortar shells being fired all over this fabulous city. Oh my god, this was the end for sure. More children’s laughter.
I unplugged the tree. As I layed there in the prone position, I listened some more. It sounded like we were under attack by children? Huh? Could all the Danish children organize an overthrow of the adults because they didn’t get what they wanted? And, pray tell, just where would they acquire the weaponry required for such a monumentous task? This just plain sounded kookie.
I – very slowly – raised my head to peek out the front window. It was a stupid risk, but I had to see this for myself. After all, if it was the kids, I am fairly certain my “Mama Didn’t Love Me” tattoo would surely identify me as a “friendly.” Hell, I could probably be their leader or something.
Well, to make a long story short, I felt a little embarassed to discover that I had spent the last hour and a half under the dining room table because of fireworks. Yes, it seems that it is customary in Denmark to celebrate Christmas with fireworks. Anyhow, now I know. Merry Christmas all og Glade Jul!!!!
(Originally published in 2004)
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