I was mortified to find dinosaurs in the apartment after the New Years party. So far I have located and dispatched three of them, but I suspect at least one is still at large. Hiding, waiting. I fear for my life, and my sanity.


We had been at the Radhuspladsen the night before, watching the fireworks display. The haphazard event included no city sponsored displays and instead the local Danes were allowed to shoot dangerous projectiles in the air without much concern for their safety, nor for anybody elses. Not long after arriving at the square it became painfully obvious as to why many onlookers had brought industrial-grade safety goggles with them. The drunken Danes were running loose, firing their immense arsenals at random, trying to out-do each other’s kill streaks. I saw no fire trucks, but the police were observing the madness from a safe distance, because why busy yourself with precautions when you can simply deal with the consequences.


Aside from the dinosaurs, I also found two large helium filled balloons in the living room, tied around the neck of a dismembered mannequin.


Also, for whatever reason, they had tried to shave him.


By now I have cleaned up most of the mess but a large number of dirty dishes still await my attention.


I love it how people, when they’re drunk, always make an attempt at cleaning up the place just before crashing their faces into the floor. It’s the same story in every country. You wake up to find, typically, a stack of plates carefully balanced on top of a wine glass positioned as close to the edge of the table as humanly possible. If I didn’t have faith in the kindness of drunken visitors, I would suspect someone had set up an elaborate trap. Also, I found a pink plastic spider floating in a glass of water:




Despite having spent the better part of the morning on picking up mandarin peels turned into makeshift ashtrays (again – why?), I still couldn’t help but smile when I saw the strings from the crackers carefully wrapped around the biscuits and the half-full cans hidden underneath the chairs. For all these baffling deeds must’ve been committed in a state of utter euphoria. Or madness. Yeah, my money’s on madness.