After Hours Copenhagen

by Michael Esposito II (United States of America)

Making a local connection Denmark

I’m standing at the end of the bridge as a light fog settles over the pond. I’m in the middle of a park in Copenhagen and although the sun set awhile ago there’s still some light in the sky. I forget what they call that, I think it’s the twilight sun. Regardless, it gives off the most remarkable light. It’s 2:30am, and I’m waiting for my recently recruited tour guide, Ryan. We’ve only met once and it was in a darkened cafe-bar earlier that night. There’s a danger to late night sight seeing that makes my stomach flip-flop between apprehension and excitement. I’m starting to have second thoughts when I see him coming across the bridge with his bicycle. I’d somehow forgotten how tall he is. I feel like before the Danish grant you citizenship they make sure you’re over 6ft. With his goofy smile and crystal blue eyes, there’s an immediate sense of comfort. As we find a place for him to park his bike (everyone rides a bike in Denmark) he brandishes a six pack from Mikkeller & Friend’s and suggests some notable sights nearby. It’s worth mentioning, I had no idea before arriving in Copenhagen that it was legal to openly drink in Denmark, and I don’t think words now could properly convey my excitement upon learning this. Ryan’s actually American and is working in environmental research. That made him seem very dashing. He begins leading me down a stony path as we drink our beers and explains his studies on the wind turbines that line the Copenhagen coast. He passionately highlights the ways Denmark is becoming more environmentally responsible. Suddenly, I see her in the water. Langelinie, the Little Mermaid. Though it was the darkest the night would be, her bronzed sorrow shone in the pink-purple twilight. She’s smaller than you might imagine, but captivating. The water seemed motionless as we stood there and I realized I was living a night I’d always remember. I didn’t want to leave, but when Ryan grabs my hand a jolt of energy runs through me, and we’re on our way. We were probably the last people to see her before she was covered with red paint. I read about it the next morning. A sign of protest for the whales or something. Up the stony walk we run until we reach the next destination, the Gefion fountain. The fountain grabs your focus and won’t yield. A god bursting through the earth on a chariot dragged by oxen. I’d never thought of it before, but late at night the water in famous fountains doesn’t run. There’s a silent, hypnotic, romanticism to it. Before I know it Ryan leans in and kisses me gently. Something inside me bursts as I kiss him back. We push against the wall of the fountain and he runs his hand against my jacket. For a second, I feel the joint in my pocket. I’d bought the joint earlier that day in Christiania, or Freetown. Christiania is a sort of new age hippy village in Copenhagen where everyone looks effortlessly cool and at peace. There’s this street of multicolored booths, almost like a farmers market of weed. Vendors of all shapes and sizes sell specialty buds and edibles. Ryan and I pass the Classic Copenhagen Kush back and forth as we wander past the underwater statue Agnete and the Merman. We share honest, deep truths about ourselves as you only can with close friends and strangers. He brings me to the center of the court in Amalienborg, the Queen’s winter palace. We lock eyes in the royal courtyard, it’s spectacular beauty and historical relevance all somehow fading away until it’s only us. He brushes some hair from my face before saying he has one more place to show me. He’s holding my hand as we turn the corner and walk down the pier in Nyhavn. The sun begins to rise, finally abandoning its fight to set, and ruby light kisses each of the pale colored buildings. He pulls me in and gives me one last kiss. And as the city came to life, my late night tour of Copenhagen came to an end.