Criminal Minds Amazing Race: Leg One: 3/5
(for warnings see part one here)
Criminal Minds Amazing Race: Leg One: USA to Sweden
Team: Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner and Erin Strauss (co-workers)
Day Two: Stockholm-Arlanda Airport, 15.30
They make it off the plane ahead of one of the other teams, just, and it’s a race to find transport to get them to where they need to go. Stockholm-Arlanda Airport is a bit of a way outside of Stockholm, something neither of them had actually known, but that the map displayed next to the information booth made pretty clear.
Hotch is starting to miss his phone. And Garcia. And possibly Reid, who would have known, though he’s not entirely sure how well he would deal with Reid in this type of situation.
“There’s an express train to Stockholm,” Strauss appears next to him, holding a pair of tickets in her hand. She’d headed over to one of the information points while he’d been looking at the map, trying to figure out where they needed to go.
“Lead on,” he doesn’t question it, just lets her lead him over to the escalators, reading the signs as they move, there’s nothing to suggest any better routes, or that they’re going the wrong way.
“It takes twenty minutes to get to Stockholm, then we have to find the hotel,” Strauss continues once they’re on the escalator, handing him his ticket.
“Did you ask about it?”
She gives him a look, and he shrugs, he’s heard one of the other teams arguing about various things, including not asking the right questions, he figures there’s no harm in at least asking.
“The man said that it’s famous, and that any taxi driver will know how to get there,” Strauss says, as they follow the signs to the train platform. Two of the other teams have made it ahead of them, and Hotch can’t help but think it’s likely to be pattern for a while. It’s a few minutes before a train arrives, by which time the last team has made it to the platform.
They all shuffle onto the train along with other passengers from their flight and a few more, but they don’t speak, each team settling a distance from the others. It says a few things about the nature of human competitiveness Hotch thinks, watching as the other teams whisper, pointing at various things on leaflets in their hands, someone had probably written a paper on it.
Strauss spends the journey counting how much of their allowance they have left, which is over half, all of which she’d changed to the right currency at the airport before buying the tickets. They’d eaten on their first flight, so that isn’t a problem yet, though Hotch knows they’re going to have to eat again soon. The only things they’ve had to spend money on so far is train tickets.
They make their way to the door once they’ve been on the train for fifteen minutes, ready to get off as soon as the doors open in Stockholm and it’s a race to find a taxi before one of the other teams does. They manage it, just, and Hotch manages to give their driver their desired destination, between breaths.
Their assigned camera and sound men are less out of breath, and Hotch takes a moment to feel a little disgruntled. He gets that they’ve been doing this for a while, but it’s not like he spends all of his time behind a desk, and he runs around just as much as Morgan, even if he tends to tackle things less often.
It’s a short taxi ride, through unfamiliar streets, and Hotch starts to feel a little nervous, all they can do is trust that the taxi driver knows where they’re going. It’s a relief when the taxi pulls up outside the hotel, and the name is visible.
Hotch jumps a little when Strauss releases a breath, before shaking his head. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised that she was just as nervous as him. This isn’t really a situation that either of them has been in before. They’re both used to being able to prepare.
They climb out of the taxi, and Strauss hands over the fare, and they hurry inside, aware of another taxi pulling up. They step through the glass doors into the hotel reception, and Strauss breaks to the right. Hotch follows, guessing she’s spotted the route marker.
Strauss opens the box and grabs one of the envelopes, stepping back and out of the way of the team behind them, handing the envelope across to Hotch, “Best you read it, in this light I’d need my glasses,” she motions towards her backpack and he nods his understanding before opening the envelope and pulling out there instructions.
“We need to slide a shot glass made of ice across the bar and into a target area, once we’re done that the bartender will give us the clue,” Hotch explains, glancing towards the doorway that the signs are telling them leads into the ice bar.
“Sounds simple enough,” Strauss comments, and Hotch stares at her for a moment before shaking his head. It sounds difficult, but scarily like something he has a hazy memory of doing while at law school.
“It’s over here,” he leads the way into a cloakroom, and nods along with the instructions the woman inside provides, laying his backpack down to one side and pulling on the parka and gloves that she hands to him. He waits for Strauss to do the same before heading through into the bar itself.
He hesitates in the doorway as the cold hits him, before Strauss prods him from behind, forcing him to keep moving towards the bar. The two women on the bar offer him smiles, the first placing a shot glass onto the bar in front of him. He takes a moment to eye up the distance he needs to slide it before giving it a push. He watches mutely as it slides straight off the end and smashes. Strauss snorts behind him, giving him another push to get him out of the way just as the other team come in through the door, joining the queue behind her.
Hotch is already imagining the comments that this is going to draw from his team when he gets back, especially considering the fact that his marksmanship awards have been decorating his office for as long as he’s had it. It won’t matter that there’s a rather significant difference between shooting a gun and sliding a shot glass along a bar.
Strauss’s first attempt is better than his, the shot glass stopping short of the target rather than going over the edge of the bar. The other team have similar luck, and it’s Hotch’s turn again, and the queue’s longer now, three out of the four teams having made it to the bar.
He tries a gentler push, and watches as it slides to one side, stopping on the edge of the bar alongside the target. He thankful to be wearing the gloves though, his nose is feeling a little numb from the cold, and he has images of the shot glass sticking to his hand if he tried it without the glove.
Which would be more embarrassing than missing the target.
Strauss’ next attempt goes off the end of the bar, and she curses under her breath as she stomps around to join him at the back of the queue. The second team manage to hit the target, just, and they claim their clue off the bar tender and leave, and Hotch bounces a little impatiently as the fourth team joins them.
He glances at Strauss, eying the look of fixed determination on her face as she watches the shot glasses. It’s the kind of focus he’d used to seeing on Reid’s face when he’s working on a problem, though he doubts that Strauss is working out the math required to get the shot glass to stop on the target.
He accepts his next shot glass with a smile to the bar tender, before taking a breath and giving it a careful push, keeping its course straight down the bar this time, and using about the same force as on his last attempt. The shot glass slides slowly down the bar, and stops just beyond the target.
Hotch sighs, stepping out of the way to let Strauss have her try, watching as she takes a careful grip and slides the shot glass back a little, before giving it a controlled push and releasing. Her attention is focused completely on the shot glass, as it slides down the bar, slowing as it approaches the target, and stops dead centre.
Hotch grins despite himself, as she accepts the envelope from the bar tender and makes her way over to him, leading the way back out into the cloakroom, a bounce in her step.
“I’m impressed,” he comments, offering her a smile to show that he means it and she nods, blushing the tiniest amount.
“It’s a remembered skill,” she shrugs casually, before tugging her gloves off, handing him the envelope before pulling the parka off and hanging it up with the gloves. She reclaims the envelope to allow him to do the same before opening it, holding it out in front of herself to read it. “We have to make our way to the world’s largest IKEA store in Kungens Kurva.”
Hotch raises an eyebrow, “Fairly good odds we’ll have to build something for the next challenge.”
Strauss nods, waiting for him to pick up his backpack before handing the envelope across, “Hopefully it’s still open.”
Hotch glances at his watch, “Well, it’s just after five, so hopefully.”
“Taxi?” Strauss asks, leading the way back out into the bay outside the hotel entrance.
Hotch nods, pointing towards the taxi rank a few yards away, and letting her lead again. He’s half expecting to find that it’s the same taxi driver as before, but it’s not. “We need to get to the IKEA, in Kungens Kurva?”
The driver smiles, nodding. Hotch is more than a little thankful that both of the places they’ve needed to get to are fairly well known, otherwise it would be a hell of a lot more difficult.
Day Two: Stockholm Kungens Kurva IKEA, 17.45
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Criminal Minds Amazing Race: Leg One: USA to Sweden
Team: Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner and Erin Strauss (co-workers)
Day Two: Stockholm-Arlanda Airport, 15.30
They make it off the plane ahead of one of the other teams, just, and it’s a race to find transport to get them to where they need to go. Stockholm-Arlanda Airport is a bit of a way outside of Stockholm, something neither of them had actually known, but that the map displayed next to the information booth made pretty clear.
Hotch is starting to miss his phone. And Garcia. And possibly Reid, who would have known, though he’s not entirely sure how well he would deal with Reid in this type of situation.
“There’s an express train to Stockholm,” Strauss appears next to him, holding a pair of tickets in her hand. She’d headed over to one of the information points while he’d been looking at the map, trying to figure out where they needed to go.
“Lead on,” he doesn’t question it, just lets her lead him over to the escalators, reading the signs as they move, there’s nothing to suggest any better routes, or that they’re going the wrong way.
“It takes twenty minutes to get to Stockholm, then we have to find the hotel,” Strauss continues once they’re on the escalator, handing him his ticket.
“Did you ask about it?”
She gives him a look, and he shrugs, he’s heard one of the other teams arguing about various things, including not asking the right questions, he figures there’s no harm in at least asking.
“The man said that it’s famous, and that any taxi driver will know how to get there,” Strauss says, as they follow the signs to the train platform. Two of the other teams have made it ahead of them, and Hotch can’t help but think it’s likely to be pattern for a while. It’s a few minutes before a train arrives, by which time the last team has made it to the platform.
They all shuffle onto the train along with other passengers from their flight and a few more, but they don’t speak, each team settling a distance from the others. It says a few things about the nature of human competitiveness Hotch thinks, watching as the other teams whisper, pointing at various things on leaflets in their hands, someone had probably written a paper on it.
Strauss spends the journey counting how much of their allowance they have left, which is over half, all of which she’d changed to the right currency at the airport before buying the tickets. They’d eaten on their first flight, so that isn’t a problem yet, though Hotch knows they’re going to have to eat again soon. The only things they’ve had to spend money on so far is train tickets.
They make their way to the door once they’ve been on the train for fifteen minutes, ready to get off as soon as the doors open in Stockholm and it’s a race to find a taxi before one of the other teams does. They manage it, just, and Hotch manages to give their driver their desired destination, between breaths.
Their assigned camera and sound men are less out of breath, and Hotch takes a moment to feel a little disgruntled. He gets that they’ve been doing this for a while, but it’s not like he spends all of his time behind a desk, and he runs around just as much as Morgan, even if he tends to tackle things less often.
It’s a short taxi ride, through unfamiliar streets, and Hotch starts to feel a little nervous, all they can do is trust that the taxi driver knows where they’re going. It’s a relief when the taxi pulls up outside the hotel, and the name is visible.
Hotch jumps a little when Strauss releases a breath, before shaking his head. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised that she was just as nervous as him. This isn’t really a situation that either of them has been in before. They’re both used to being able to prepare.
They climb out of the taxi, and Strauss hands over the fare, and they hurry inside, aware of another taxi pulling up. They step through the glass doors into the hotel reception, and Strauss breaks to the right. Hotch follows, guessing she’s spotted the route marker.
Strauss opens the box and grabs one of the envelopes, stepping back and out of the way of the team behind them, handing the envelope across to Hotch, “Best you read it, in this light I’d need my glasses,” she motions towards her backpack and he nods his understanding before opening the envelope and pulling out there instructions.
“We need to slide a shot glass made of ice across the bar and into a target area, once we’re done that the bartender will give us the clue,” Hotch explains, glancing towards the doorway that the signs are telling them leads into the ice bar.
“Sounds simple enough,” Strauss comments, and Hotch stares at her for a moment before shaking his head. It sounds difficult, but scarily like something he has a hazy memory of doing while at law school.
“It’s over here,” he leads the way into a cloakroom, and nods along with the instructions the woman inside provides, laying his backpack down to one side and pulling on the parka and gloves that she hands to him. He waits for Strauss to do the same before heading through into the bar itself.
He hesitates in the doorway as the cold hits him, before Strauss prods him from behind, forcing him to keep moving towards the bar. The two women on the bar offer him smiles, the first placing a shot glass onto the bar in front of him. He takes a moment to eye up the distance he needs to slide it before giving it a push. He watches mutely as it slides straight off the end and smashes. Strauss snorts behind him, giving him another push to get him out of the way just as the other team come in through the door, joining the queue behind her.
Hotch is already imagining the comments that this is going to draw from his team when he gets back, especially considering the fact that his marksmanship awards have been decorating his office for as long as he’s had it. It won’t matter that there’s a rather significant difference between shooting a gun and sliding a shot glass along a bar.
Strauss’s first attempt is better than his, the shot glass stopping short of the target rather than going over the edge of the bar. The other team have similar luck, and it’s Hotch’s turn again, and the queue’s longer now, three out of the four teams having made it to the bar.
He tries a gentler push, and watches as it slides to one side, stopping on the edge of the bar alongside the target. He thankful to be wearing the gloves though, his nose is feeling a little numb from the cold, and he has images of the shot glass sticking to his hand if he tried it without the glove.
Which would be more embarrassing than missing the target.
Strauss’ next attempt goes off the end of the bar, and she curses under her breath as she stomps around to join him at the back of the queue. The second team manage to hit the target, just, and they claim their clue off the bar tender and leave, and Hotch bounces a little impatiently as the fourth team joins them.
He glances at Strauss, eying the look of fixed determination on her face as she watches the shot glasses. It’s the kind of focus he’d used to seeing on Reid’s face when he’s working on a problem, though he doubts that Strauss is working out the math required to get the shot glass to stop on the target.
He accepts his next shot glass with a smile to the bar tender, before taking a breath and giving it a careful push, keeping its course straight down the bar this time, and using about the same force as on his last attempt. The shot glass slides slowly down the bar, and stops just beyond the target.
Hotch sighs, stepping out of the way to let Strauss have her try, watching as she takes a careful grip and slides the shot glass back a little, before giving it a controlled push and releasing. Her attention is focused completely on the shot glass, as it slides down the bar, slowing as it approaches the target, and stops dead centre.
Hotch grins despite himself, as she accepts the envelope from the bar tender and makes her way over to him, leading the way back out into the cloakroom, a bounce in her step.
“I’m impressed,” he comments, offering her a smile to show that he means it and she nods, blushing the tiniest amount.
“It’s a remembered skill,” she shrugs casually, before tugging her gloves off, handing him the envelope before pulling the parka off and hanging it up with the gloves. She reclaims the envelope to allow him to do the same before opening it, holding it out in front of herself to read it. “We have to make our way to the world’s largest IKEA store in Kungens Kurva.”
Hotch raises an eyebrow, “Fairly good odds we’ll have to build something for the next challenge.”
Strauss nods, waiting for him to pick up his backpack before handing the envelope across, “Hopefully it’s still open.”
Hotch glances at his watch, “Well, it’s just after five, so hopefully.”
“Taxi?” Strauss asks, leading the way back out into the bay outside the hotel entrance.
Hotch nods, pointing towards the taxi rank a few yards away, and letting her lead again. He’s half expecting to find that it’s the same taxi driver as before, but it’s not. “We need to get to the IKEA, in Kungens Kurva?”
The driver smiles, nodding. Hotch is more than a little thankful that both of the places they’ve needed to get to are fairly well known, otherwise it would be a hell of a lot more difficult.
Day Two: Stockholm Kungens Kurva IKEA, 17.45
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