You call this winter?
The predictably wet March 2003 Copenhagen nodermeet

Where: We start off at a bar in downtown Copenhagen, Denmark. After some discussion, we have settled on Klaptræet, located on Kultorvet close to Nørreport Station (follow Frederiksborggade from the station, and you'll be there in two minutes).

When: Because of scheduling difficulties, the nodermeet looked for a while like it would have to do without a good part of its participants. Luckily, brother andersa suggested the perfect solution: two nodermeets for the price of one.

Accordingly, we are holding this nodermeet twice. Yep, that's right - no half-measures here. The dates selected are March 8, 2003 and March 15, 2003. These dates are fixed and will not change. We begin (on each of the nights) at 1930 hours CET, and continue until we drop or get carted off - or wimp out. We'll hang around at the meeting place until at least 2100 hours CET to allow any stragglers to catch up.


  • Attending March 8, 2003:
    • Definites:
      • liveforever is the sucker who agreed to organise the meet
      • Carthag doesn't need to think - he's there
      • toalight is coming down from Norway, to warmer and wetter climes
      • tingo will join us, according to persistent rumours

    • Maybes:
      • Alchemy wants to be counted among the few, the brave, the drunk... but he warns that his brain has shown signs of atrophy recently, and he might forget to come - and other details. Like his name, and stuff. Update: he musta forgot. Shucks...
      • skongshoj may be coming over from Jutland. Update: he didn't show.

  • Attending March 15, 2003:
    • Definites:
      • liveforever will die another day
      • andersa will be there, or be square (although he claims that proves that he is already square)
      • Cognis is coming Update: he couldn't make it, for pecuniary reasons.
      • Carthag still doesn't need to think Update: he wasn't thinking, all right - he drank too much the night before, and couldn't come, because he was too hung over.

    • Maybes:
  • Took a rain check:
    • pylon dearly wishes to join us, but circumstances prevent it
    • SharQ won't be there
    • Sverre isn't coming, but sends us his best Norwegian wishes: "Dere får ha gøy."

Things to remember: It's Denmark. It's late in the winter, and spring might be just around the corner, but don't be fooled - it's going to be cold and probably wet. Bar-hopping in winter is hazardous to your health without appropriate clothes for those brief but freezing jaunts between watering holes.

Additional information can and will be added to this writeup as Der Tag approaches. Check back frequently to stay in the loop.

Special taskforce on pictorial immortality: liveforever + toalight + ?

Languages spoken: Wir all parlez bene Babelfish.

How it went, Part 1 (March 8, 2003):

We started out at Klaptræet, where we (toalight, tingo, and liveforever) were joined by Carthag. At the request of my official nemesis, toalight insisted on making me drink tequila - and on kissing me. Oh, well, it's nice to see that Da Stiff looks out for me...

From Klaptræet, we went to Charlie's, in Pilestræde, where we tasted both a local Danish weissbier called Brøckhouse, and one of my own favourites, Prinzregent Luitpold. Charlie's is one of my favourite waterholes. Carthag left us there, and the three remaining noders wandered the streets a while. We stopped for a drink at a pretty lame place called Kreuzberg, in Kompagnistræde, then we decided to call it a night. Oh, yes, I might also refer you to my daylog for March 9, 2003.

How it went, Part 2 (March 15, 2003):

Like the first time, this evening started out at Klaptræet, and never really got any further. As andersa notes in his WU, below, he and I were pretty much it. Several other noders were supposed to have shown, but had to cancel at the last moment, for various reasons.

Never mind - we had a great time, despite the bothersome party at the other table (which contained one of those people who can be counted on to start a fight, every time he gets drunk - and he was pretty drunk). We chatted the evening away, and called it a night around 11 PM. No raucous drunkenness, no tequila. Just a few beers and good cheer.

Yes, Operation Weserübung was April 9, 1940, not March 8 - but it seemed an apposite joke at the time. So, sue me. No, wait - some of the people who read this are Americans, and embarassingly literal-minded....don't sue me. Sue toalight instead, he's Norwegian and has probably deserved it.

Saturday March 8, 2003 1215 GMT+2:

The stewardess smilingly welcomed us aboard the Bombardier Dash-8Q400 and pointed us towards the cabin's 72 faux leather seats. Two of them were all ours for a little over an hour. A couple of old farts with a mission; Agents T1 and T2.

Between buckling up and absent-mindedly watching the safety demonstration, I casually opened the in-flight magazine on page 65.

"Your mission - should you choose to accept it - is to meet up with the Danish head operative codenamed liveforever, force him to drink tequila and return safely to home shore. It is vitally important to blend in with the locals, agent T1. We'll be sending T2 along as a backup. I know he's a freshman of sorts, but that's all we can spare right now. Get him up to speed on the matters at hand.

Intelligence reports the probable presence of four people at the meet-up, you clowns included. Not much is known about liveforever's protectional detail other than it's led by a shady individual known throughout the community as Carthag. Be careful down there and do not under any circumstances make a scene. You are to report back no later than midnight Sunday. Your very existence will be denied in case of a query into your where- and whatabouts. This message will be marked for destruction in five seconds."

The terse message morphed into an advertisement for "Bonnie" tortilla chips. In it were to wrinkly women in slit skirts. On the same page in T2's in-flight magazine there was an ad for a Rolex wristwatch.

"What are we up to this time?", T2 asked, trying to keep casual in spite of his thirsty sounding voice.

"We're out to get some Danish guy drunk."

"Drunk, eh? Like that mess in Lincolnshire last year?"

T2 hadn't forgotten our rather wet adventure in the east English lowlands.

"Yeah. A lot like that mess in Lincolnshire last year. This guy however, is different from that Sleaford chef. If his cover story really is a cover story, it is a really good one. It's outright devious. Family man, academic, cozy little place in downtown Copenhagen. Stuff like that. Word has it he's a high profile E2 operative."

"Tell me more about this E2 thing. I'm lost."

T2 is the only person I know who's not afraid of Klaproth. Usenet does that to people.

"E2? Where do I even start? Lots of people down at intelligence believe it to be some sort of propaganda machine for lesbian animals. They might be right for all I know. Sorry, that's all I have. The day we were briefed on the E2 organization, I was severely distracted by P7."

"That sweater again?"

"That sweater again. Could we please talk about something else?"

So we talked about something else.

My pickled herring sandwich arrived. The silver of the Gulf Stream on a perfect slice of rye bread. The norse gods were smiling at me. Or smirking.

"The reasons for us going down there still appear somewhat muddled to me" T2 muttered well into his fourth Tuborg. They stopped being complimentary about when he started ordering them from the stewardess' cleavage. Nobody could focus like T2.

I tried to explain the best I could: "Looks like there's a senior operative power struggle going on at E2, and someone with their own agenda has decided to send us down to take care of things. This will probably be our toughest mission yet."

T2 didn't offer a spoken reply to the last piece of background information. He just stared me in the eye and continued cleaning his M33 Utility, Opener, Bottle.

What had we gotten ourselves into this time? Challenged to do a beer relay - which that godforsaken heathen country was so famous for - the minute we set foot on Kastrup? Our hands tied to our backs behind some seedy downtown adult shop, forced to eat sausages containing additives outlawed back home? Pumped full of amphetamine and held in front of grainy VHS recordings from the 1986 World Cup?

What evil puppetmaster was pulling the strings here?

I dozed off in the leather-ish seat, dreaming disturbing dreams of Michael Laudrup. The word "NEMESIS" was tattooed in flaming letters across his scrawny chest.

- * -

Sunday March 9, 2003 1859 GMT+2

"Hey! Spending a Saturday night in Copenhagen like that was a great idea!"

"Couldn't agree more. Their hair must hurt today."

Back in Norway, skint. At the far end of the arrivals someone had set up an Internet kiosk. I went over to it and swiped my by now see-through Visa in the slot and got access. I had but one message to send back:

Mission complete.

Pictures available at
Allright, allright. I know there's too many references in here to stuff you don't know anything about. Like Michael Laudrup's status as Norway's national football nemesis and the part about tortilla chips. And the aircraft. And the adult bookstores. And the red sausages. These are my references and this was our nodermeet. Sorry.

Nope, I don't call this winter.. Early spring has come and the weather is nice.

Being a totally GTKY writeup on what happened at the second meetup.

Due to excessive wimpyness on the part of the danish noder flock, it turned out that this meeting was only going to be with myself and liveforever. Anyway this was actually how we originally planed it to be. It was only after I excerted just that small amount of pressure at just the right spot, that liveforever suddenly caved in and arranged a fully fledged nordic gathering, twice.

Again we met up at Klaptræet, where liveforever was immediately intimidated a group cheerfull youngsters who had decided they pretty much owned the place. One of them in particular fit the bully stereotype fairly accurately. You know the type, - "What? Did you call me an asshole?!". BANG! And you wake up a minute later, with blood all over you face. And as I found out later he has his reasons. The beertaps were malfunctioning, and the cute female bartenders were too inept to fix them, so we had to resort to the bottled kind. Fine. I like GTs. I am a physics student after all.

We sat down in the E2 corner and started to break the ice. This turned out to be easy as liveforever (like you might expect if you see how much stuff he has feed into this place) has litterally a million stories and anecdotes to tell. I heard about a couple of books he has done, his work researching the plague epidemics in europe and how the danish television has got it all wrong. We discussed movies, compared scars, of which he admittedly outclasses me in both numbers and sizes, this is why he didn't like the noisy party at the table across from ours, apparently you can count on liveforever to be there when bad things happen. :-)

I seem to be asking everybody for romantic advice lately, and as expected I was able to pull a few tips. Lastly we talked about nothing other than E2. I had been waiting to tell him what my favorite node is and he was able to supply some perspective on what E2 is really about. It was about this time that liveforever started complaining about work, kids, unpacking boxes, writing and stuff and said maybe we should call it a night. It is never a bad idea to quit when you are ahead so I could not object.

So no wild party, no embarrassing pictures. Just two guys, a few bottles and good old danish hygge. I am looking forward to the next gathering.

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