THE RAPID DESCENT was unexpected. It was an evening flight, and one could see the full moon shining through the gauzy clouds, which were rolled up in cottony layers across the expanse of the night time sky. There were plenty of stars in the sky, but these were distant, and looked more like holes in the fabric of a dark blanket. The plane had just reached cruising altitude when it began to descend. I was concerned. I didn’t know why we were landing, or where we were landing. But the descent was smooth. The plane’s pilots were still in control.
We landed at Kastrup. Jones was with me. His afrobeat group had a show there, and he was letting me listen to some new tunes through one end of a pair of headphones, while we rode the airport escalators. Jones then had to leave, but he forgot the headphones and his smartphone with me, so I was walking around listening to afrobeat music. I picked up the wrong bag from the luggage carousel, then returned it and got the right one. Mine was green, but the other bag had an orange logo on it. And then I was out in the morning sunshine of Copenhagen. There were Arabic fruit sellers in stations along the elevated railroad platform, selling bananas and oranges. Somewhere, a tiny radio was playing Basement Jaxx or Daft Punk.
I remembered then how at home I had once felt in that city, so long ago, and about how I once went to a club around Christmas and watched a teenage Danish girl with mermaid curly hair, who had obviously lied her way into the dance hall, get swirled around by some gruff executive from Maersk or Danske Bank while the DJ played Wham’s “Last Christmas.” In my mind, they were still dancing while George Michael sang. Love was in the air in Copenhagen, always.
I rode the train into Københavns Hovedbanegård, the central station, and disembarked, leaving my luggage downstairs. I didn’t know where to go next. Should I go to Christiania? Or to Christian’s Church to visit the tomb of Link Wray? Or maybe just head down the Strøget and get a cup of coffee somewhere? Some Danish girls went by on bikes and I could hear the bells of their bicycles ringing. It was an exuberant, holiday sound. The bells’ sound made me happy.
It had been so long since I had felt happy.
north! 