Two Bits

A sea of blond-haired, blue-eyed, beauties glided through the streets like a parade of angels descended from heaven. Naturally, I assumed I was dead. As it turned out I was in Stockholm, where jaws hang slack and you need to mind your feet to avoid crushing anyone's lolling tongue on the sidewalk. I had a theory that a tall, dark, and handsome lad such as myself would be like an exotic pearl, rare and precious in this fair-skinned land. Nope. I was more like the discarded oyster, given a cursory glance of disgust before being shucked into the disposal. Bruised ego aside, I found Stockholm to be one of the most beautiful cities in all of Europe. The historic center of Gamla Stad was architectural eye-candy. Steep, hilly roads and narrow, cobbled streets beheld an array of colorful homes, quiet squares, quaint shops, and the buildings of the Royal Palace. Everything was immaculate, the paint even seemed fresh and vibrant. I had gotten up early and the streets were deserted. It felt like my own personal playground, so I broke a few windows and stole some candy. On a sugar high I visited Storkyrkan, the unpronounceable Royal Cathedral of Sweden, whose most interesting feature is a life-sized statue of St. George and the Dragon. This was fascinating to me for two reasons: One, there wasn't much mental association in my head between dragons and Christianity. I once heard a story about Jesus curing a ham but never slaying a dragon; Two, the vast majority of the dragon was built using the antlers of elk and deer. So, despite all of Sweden's ravishing beauties, this dragon has the odd distinction of sporting the nicest rack. I once again skipped all of the museums, as is my custom, but wandering the streets was joy. Stockholm is built on a series of islands that stretch out from the city, east into the ocean. In fact, the coast sports an unimaginable 24,000 of these little islands, of which only a handful are inhabited. I explored the two most accessible, Skeppsholmen and Kastellholmen, looking for a rest room. Definitely a recurring theme in European travel is to make sure you have pockets full of change for the facilities. Can you believe it costs a dollar to take a shit in Sweden? I'd hate to think of the spiraling debt I'd accumulate if I got a bout of the runs. Finally, I rented a bike and explored the large garden island of Djurgarden, getting lost only thrice before finding my way back home. I have a confession to make. Truth be told, I did get lucky with one of the Swedes. I met her in a little shop off of one of the main squares. A knockout by any standard, we chatted about this and that, and before I knew it she was seductively running her fingers through my hair. Surprised, but not enough to lose my cool, her delicate fingers caressed my head and sent tingles down my spine. I'm a gentleman so I'll spare the details, save I was late for a train and thirty minutes later we mournfully parted ways. My haircut was done.