The Little Drunk Man
I made a new friend the other day, while waiting for my local train. I was taking the main line home to Hillerød and sitting five rows in front of me is an ancient little old man, who is, naturally, plastered. Out of all the people on the train (all the people probably amounting to four), this little old man chooses me to talk to. And, naturally, insists on speaking slurred, fast, impossibly difficult to translate, Danish.
"Where are your pants?" he asks me.
"I don't understand you, old man."
"Danish danish danish are you angry danishdanishdanish."
"Jeg taler ikke Dansk!"
"Danish danish danishdanish danish danish girls danish."
"..."
"Danish?"
So we ride the train to the station and go our seperate ways. Sort of. When I sit down to wait for the next train, there he is. Peering around the corner and giggling, speaking his slurred Danish. I look hopefully to the girl next to me, who can't stop laughing. She tells me he's asking for a taxi and asks me to follow her to get him one. So I sigh... walk up to the old man and take his hand. Having to pull a little to get him moving.
"Kom sa, gammel mand. Let's get you home."
It took us three tries to find a driver who would take the old guy home. I felt kind of bad for him, drunk and kind of annoying as he was. We half push, half carry him into the car and wave as he drives off into the night, giving our thanks to the driver for having to put up with him. I ended up sitting with the girl all the way home. Found out her name was Amanda and got invited to go to a concert the next day. Aww. A touching end to a touching story.
"Where are your pants?" he asks me.
"I don't understand you, old man."
"Danish danish danish are you angry danishdanishdanish."
"Jeg taler ikke Dansk!"
"Danish danish danishdanish danish danish girls danish."
"..."
"Danish?"
So we ride the train to the station and go our seperate ways. Sort of. When I sit down to wait for the next train, there he is. Peering around the corner and giggling, speaking his slurred Danish. I look hopefully to the girl next to me, who can't stop laughing. She tells me he's asking for a taxi and asks me to follow her to get him one. So I sigh... walk up to the old man and take his hand. Having to pull a little to get him moving.
"Kom sa, gammel mand. Let's get you home."
It took us three tries to find a driver who would take the old guy home. I felt kind of bad for him, drunk and kind of annoying as he was. We half push, half carry him into the car and wave as he drives off into the night, giving our thanks to the driver for having to put up with him. I ended up sitting with the girl all the way home. Found out her name was Amanda and got invited to go to a concert the next day. Aww. A touching end to a touching story.