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I’d finally spot one, okay? Some chick in fishnets, leanin’ on a wall, and I’m like, “Oh god, oh god, what now?” I’d stumble over, all nervous, sayin’, “Hey, uh, you workin’?” She’d smirk—SMIRK!—and I’d be furious! “Don’t judge me, lady, I herd sheep all day!” I’d haggle, too, ‘cause I’m cheap— “Twenty bucks, that’s it, take it or leave it!” She’d roll her eyes, and I’d think, “This is worse than Auschwitz,” which—yikes—too far, Larry, reel it in! But that’s my brain, ping-pongin’ like Saul’s, from panic to dark humor.

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Fast forward to the pub on Kongens gate. It’s packed! I grab a drink, and my buddy shows up. We’re chatting, and I’m telling him about my day. He’s cracking up at my seagull story. Then, outta nowhere, this band starts playing. They’re amazing! I’m dancing like nobody’s watching, and honestly, who cares?

The rise of the Arctic Eagle