I’m on the phone, so nobody can hear me…

For some reason my latest posts have been about trains or train staff. But I spend half my life on trains, so it’s no wonder. Anyway this post will be no different. Actually it’s written on the train between Århus and Aalborg.

Why the hell am I forced to listen to people’s most intimate stories whenever I’m on a train? It’s like people think that because they are on the phone you can’t hear what they are saying.
Listen sister I can’t hear what the person in the other end is saying, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you are talking about, when you say things like:
“I don’t like going down on him.”
I know it’s not your favorite kind of bubble gum you mean when you say “Mmmmm I don’t know I think I prefer doggy”.

It’s not always about sex though. One time I unwillingly got a lecture in the wonders of the woman’s period. I actually learned something. Did you guys know that a girl bleeds like a cow pisses when she’s not on the pill?

Another time me an the rest of the passengers on the train had to sit through an hour of a girl screaming at her boyfriend that he didn’t pay enough attention to her and that he was always flirting with her best friend and bla bla bla.

I know what you’re thinking. Pete, why don’t you just put in your earphones and listen to some music? It’s a good question, because I could. I’ll admit it I like ease dropping. It’s like having my own live version of Paradise Hotel. I just have to hear what these freaks are saying next.

What I can’t understand is why people, who are not on Paradise Hotel, mentally retarded or paid (one doesn’t exclude the other) want to let the entire world know about their terrible sex life, preferred positions or shitty boyfriends.

My guess is that they don’t realize that the rest of the train can hear what they are saying. More then ones if experienced a person (normally as in always a girl) saying (after having use words like: sex, going down and gagging): “No I can’t say the b-word, I’m on a train.” Or something like that.
Listen lady I know what you are talking about, the other passengers know what you are talking about, the usher knows what you are talking about, the whole world knows it. We have heard you going on for the last 45 minutes. We know how big your bra is, we know that you like it rough, we know the names of your last three sex partners and that one of them had a penis ring that really did it for you. So you can use the b-word – it’s all right.

The angriest people in the world: Part one

Believe it or not, but there are people in this world that a way angrier than me. This thread is my tribute to these people (please read the irony).

Part one is about a group of pissed off people who have yelled at me a couple of times the past six months: People who work at the security checkpoints in airports.

What the hell is up with these people? Why are they so unbelievable angry? My theory is that they enjoy taking advantage of the position of power that they have been given. They know that us passengers are terrified of doing something wrong, and whenever we break one of their rules they act like we have just committed an act of terror. I mean every God damn time I walk through security they somehow make me fear that I have to spend the next 45 years in prison.

It’s like this every time: The security people are smiling laughing with each other, but that’s all a trick to make you fell safe. Then the security person, with the huge gun, turn to you. The smile and laugh is gone. The x-ray showed that you had a bomb in your bag, which obviously is your iPod that for some reason looks unmistakably like a bomb.
While going through your stuff the security person find a 100 ml deodorant in your bag. Now all hell is loose. The can of Axe (if you are American and have no sense of smell) is treated like it’s a threat to the entire universe. Now you’re sure that you’re going to spend at least a couple of nights in the slammer. I know it isn’t logical, but your mind doesn’t work when you are more afraid than you have been in your entire life.

To those of you who are going to fly soon, here are the rules you have to know, when you go through a security checkpoint:

- Don’t talk. I’m not saying don’t yell bomb, I’m saying don’t talk period!
- Look down at all times. Don’t ever look the security people directly in the eye, as they will take this as an act of aggression and instantly strip-search you!
- Don’t EVER put your laptop in the same tray as the rest of your stuff. This is probably the biggest of all sins. Not only in an airport but also in the world.
- Remove your belt, coins in your pockets, wedding ring, any metal plate or grenade splinters you may have. God have mercy on you if you set the metal detector off.

Normally angry people don’t scare me (that much), but it’s a different story when they have more guns than Arnold Schwarzenegger in Commando (I love that movie). And now we have given them the biggest gun of all: The-look-through-clothes-so-everybody-can-see-you-naked-and-talk-about-how-fat-you-are camera (I’m pretty sure this is not the official name for it, but whatever).
It seems like we’re installing these cameras in every airport (including Copenhagen). I know I know it’s to protect us against the theorists. But imagine what these pissed off security people can do with this kind of weapon. How long do you think it’ll be before one of these maniacs decide to punish us for setting the metal detector off or putting our laptop and wallet in the same tray and create the website www.uglynakedpeoplewhopissedmeoffattheairport.com? Am I the only one worrying about this?

DSB – the pain of my existence

I think I’ve figured out a good theme for my blog. People who know me know that I have a talent for being pissed off. Not that I go around screaming at people all the time, but on occasion I’ve been known to… tell people, companies, football players, politicians and animals what they are made off.
Unluckily it’s often my friends or girlfriends who has to put up with my bitching, I mean it’s not like I call the Danish railroads (DSB) and yell at them because they suck. So I was thinking to give my friends and girlfriend a break and use my blog for bitching. From now on this blog will only contain angry words from an angry man – me! This theme should provide me with topics for the remainder of my life.

So here we go. The DSB-example isn’t random. DSB is my biggest enemy, my kryptonite if you will. I could win 10 million in the lottery, get my dream job and have my favorite football team win the Super Bowl and DSB would still be able to ruin my day.

Every year DSB informs the Danes that this year they have arrived on time 98 or something percent of the time. Then why the h… come they are always late whenever I’m riding the train (which on average is two times a week)!?! Is it a coincident? Are DSB deliberately trying to piss me off? Or are they lying about the 98 percent? My guess is the latter.
Still it feels like they are going out of their way to aggravate me, and last night I had it.

I was taking the train from Horsens to Aalborg. On paper a one hour and 56 minutes train ride.
I arrived at the train station in Horsens 10 minutes early, only to find the usual message on the screen in station: “The train is six minutes late”. Well six minutes is all right, I can handle that. I go to the shop and buy a cup of coffee. Return to the screen. The message has changed. “The train is 21 minutes late”?!?! How the hell can it go from six minutes to 21? I mean did they think that the train all of a sudden would develop ultrafast speed and make up for the lost time? While I’m screaming (inside my own head) the text changes again: “The train is 27 minutes late”. Now my head is about to explode.
Calm down Peter, you’ve tried this before. I do my usual “waiting for a delayed train” routine. I finish my coffee, go to the toilet (even though I don’t have to) and walk to the tracks 15 minutes early. Who knows if the train actually has developed ultrafast speed and has made up some lost time – it hasn’t. 33 minutes later than planned it arrives.
I get on the train, find my seat and inform my girlfriend that I’ll be arriving in Aalborg half an hour late. As I arrive in Århus everybody get off the train. For some reason DSB has decided that this train can’t go any further. Now I have to change train to get to Aalborg. I wait on the platform for 15 additional minutes before the train arrives.
I arrive In Aalborg at 22:02, 53 minutes later than planned. And what did this fantastic service cost me you ask. 239 kroner ($47)
How far can I get with that kind of money if I chose to fly? Well, let’s take a look at Norwegian Air’s website:
Copenhagen – Aalborg 149 kroner
Copenhagen – London 199 kroner
Copenhagen – Paris 199 kroner

That’s right people: You can fly to Paris cheaper than you can ride the train from Horsens to Aalborg, and it will take you less time. Norwegian Air should be running the Danish railroad system if you ask me.

As I see it the only way to get DSB off their lazy asses and provide the Danes with the service they pay for is by competition. Or though I’m pretty sure that competition would put DSB out of business from day one.
Every time I experience bad service like I did yesterday, I get the feeling that DSB is flipping me the bird while in a sarcastic tone informing me to use another company if I have any complaints.

But but but my friends I now have opportunity to flip the bird right back. The train staff informed me that DSB have implemented something called ”rejsetidsgaranti”. It means that if your train arrives more than half an hour late, you can get a new ticket or some of your money back.
However this “rejsetidsgaranti” seems like it has been invented so that DSB have something to point to if their customers are unsatisfied, because it’s not easy to get you money back. It’s not like you can fill out a form online and hit “send”. Instead you have to fill out the form, print it and send it by regular mail. But I don’t care, my letter is already in the mail, I’ll keep you updated on how it goes.

The way Danes don’t interact

Hello again everybody.
I’m back in Denmark after five months of crazy fun adventures in the states. As I promised I will keep up my blog. I’ll keep writing in English hoping that some of my English speaking readers will keep enjoying my blog. I'm changing the name of my blog, but until I figure out what to write about the name will be the same.

Now that I’ve spend the last months making fun of American ways I was thinking about doing the same to the Danes – as it turns out we’re pretty weird too. I don’t know if this will be the main theme of my blog, we’ll see how it goes.
Here’s my first post written from Denmark. It’s called “The way Danes don’t interact”.

When I first landed in the states (New York to be more specific) I spend the first two days hurting my neck because I was looking up at the buildings. I’ve probably never seen a building taller than 20 floors, so the Empire State Building or Rockefeller Center is pretty impressive. But this didn’t impress me as much as what a saw on the streets, in bars or the subway. All over the place people were talking to people they didn’t know. They talked to me too. Asked me where I was from, why I was in the states and so on. Because I’m from Denmark my first thought was “Mind your own damn business.” In Denmark we go out of our way to avoid talking to strangers.

When you for example take the train from Aalborg to Copenhagen in Denmark (a five hour train ride) nobody will contact you unless they know you, want to see your ticket or yell at you because you are in the seat that they reserved.
There’s only one type of person who will contact you on a train – the much feared lonely old ladies. I fear these creatures more than I fear getting kicked in the nuts by David Beckham. That’s why I always bring my two shields with me when I’m taking the train – my MP3 player and my laptop. On a Danish train you’ll see people hiding behind screens or earplugs to avoid contact with other people. If we have been stupid enough to leave both these shields home and are unlucky enough to sit across from an old lady, who wants to tell us about her grandchildren that never call her, we instantly buy a newspaper to hide behind. We would rather read about the tragedies of the world than face the one in front of us. This is the Danish way, but not the American.

In New York people were much more interested in talking to strangers than I’ve ever experienced before, and it took me a while to get used to. Then I made my way to Missouri and realized that people in the Midwest are even more outgoing than in New York, actually MUCH more outgoing. I’m pretty sure that if you used the Newspaper trick on a train in Missouri the person in front of you would just keep telling you about his farm or guns or truck or football or his favorite buffalo wings.

The sad thing is that even though I find it absurd that Danes don’t talk to each other, there’s no way I’m going to speak with the lonely old lady that without a doubt will be sitting in front of me, when I take the train on Saturday. I’ll have my iPod charged and my laptop filled with movies.