For home and country
Our flight got delayed and I didn't want to be around Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, so I started wondering around the airport a bit. I got in one of those crappy chairs they have in the Economy Class lounge when I suddenly heard something like a roar coming from the Arrivals.
I walked over, just because I was bored, and found a whole gang of Norwegians in soccer outfits making a helluva noise.
Now I'm Danish, and it's fairly similar to Norwegian, so I asked one of them in my best Norse:
"Hey dude, what's going on?"
"We're on our way to the match, man!"
"Who are you playing?"
"Poland, man! We're gonna kick their ass! WOOO!"
"But it's not even championship season yet."
"Nah, it's just a friendly warmup game, you know."
"You mean you're gonna kick their ass."
"What do you think!? NORWAAAAYYY!! ALL THE WAY!!!"
Then they started pouring beer over each other and singing something I didn't understand.
Horatio once told me that I'm too self-centered, that whatever happens to me I connect to me somehow. Well, I guess this was one of those times. If these guys, I thought, shelled out what must be a fortune and went to some stupid game just for the honor of their country, what was I doing pissing my pants while the guy who offed my dad was in my house doing my mom!? Sometimes I feel like such a fucking wimp. Like the man says, 'Just do it.' I decided then and there that I was going to get rid of my two chaperonnes one way or the other.