Last week I was asked about my time in Sweden. Why I was here. What I liked and didn’t like. Why I started writing this blog.
I began by explaining all of the differences in Swedish society that I didn’t realize until I made the move. Then I started recounting some of the ridiculous things that had happened to me while living here. Unfortunately, one of those things might be seen as somewhat inappropriate. Maybe not inappropriate, but the story does not always lend itself to many situations.
So instead, I cut myself off, making myself seem borderline creepy, but sparing my audience any undue embarrassment. It was the ultimate sacrifice really. I’m basically a verbal martyr.
I didn’t really think much of it until last night. And since then, I haven’t been able to keep boobs off my mind. One boob to be exact. The left boob. I don’t have some sort of strange left boob fetish. But I was in a reflective mood. And who doesn’t like reflecting on boobs? Swedish boobs at that.
Just over a year ago, I was on the elevator when a girl walked in with her left boob hanging out. I did not know said girl. She did not know me. But I will never forget her.
Because of the imprint she left, I decided to re-post my Swedish elevator boob experience. Kind of lazy, I know. Although, I just wrote a rather lengthy introduction. Anyway, without further ado, A Strange Morning with Swedish Boobs in Stockholm
From June 10th, 2008:
Today was definitely one of the weirdest mornings of my life here in Stockholm. Maybe just of my life in general.
The day started out fine. Showered. Ate breakfast. Brushed my teeth. Managed to dress myself in a halfway professional manner for my less than professional job. I left the apartment at a relatively normal time. I live a few floors up so took the elevator down. And for a couple of floors everything was normal. Until the elevator stopped at which point a girl got on. And said hello, which in and of itself could qualify as pretty strange here in Stockholm. But anyway. She was kind of punky, hipster looking. Skinny. Dark dyed hair. She had a grey hangy wife beater shirt on. Kind of one of the styles that seems to be popping up in this summer weather. Under that she seemed to have some sort of bikini top. Now, in general I don’t stare indiscriminately at girls chests. But something was amiss here. And being the astute and observant fellow that I am, I looked.
Instead of that bikini top acting as some sort of bra it acted more as a shelf. Because her left boob was hanging out. As all of this was registering she decided to take the weirdness up a notch. She asked me where she was. I responded. She thanked me. She then took out her phone and tried to make a phone call but was discouraged to find that since we were in the elevator it didn't quite work. Now mind you this all happened pretty quickly. Of course I was trying to figure out exactly how in the hell to handle this situation. It’s not exactly like telling someone they have a little broccoli in their teeth.
But the elevator ride continued. We rode down a couple of more floors and stopped once more. At which point she got off. And another guy got in. Whose eyes immediately found the left boob. He looked at me, I kind of smiled and chuckled and so did he. We shared a moment if you will. The girl then got back on and mumbled something about it not being easy and that she probably shouldn't get off there. I agreed.
So we made it to the bottom floor and she got off. I started to pull away in hopes of just getting out of there, because come on, her boob was hanging out. She walked fast though. But I have long legs. So as we got outside I pulled away a little bit. She was a sneaky one though and caught up and asked me how to get to a train or subway station. So I pointed her in the direction of the train station and started walking. She came with me. Keep in mind her left boob was still hanging out. At this point I had just made my decision that I was going to keep my mouth shut. Walk quickly, eyes straight ahead and delve deep into my Swedishness. That is to say avoid at all costs any sort of situation that could be the least bit awkward. And plus I kind of hoped that the cold of the outdoors might tip her off that something just wasn’t right. Of course that doesn’t solve plumber’s crack…
Finally, as we crossed the street she must have checked herself and the next time I looked at her, her boob was covered. Good times indeed. Anyway, we walked to the station with me giving directions every now and again but mostly just walking in an awkward silence. Because her boob had been hanging out for a few minutes. After a few minutes of walking in silence a light went off in her, what I assume to be, foggy head. “Oh I know where we are, my mom works right across the street.” You are kidding me. So now she’s trying to make small talk. At this point my mind is just blown. I respond and we continue walking. Somehow still together. I’m telling you, this girl walked quickly. We got to the train station. She pulled ahead on the escalator and I just let her go. No thank you or even a good bye. I mean clearly we had shared something special, but I was nothing to her.
The weird thing is she didn't reek of booze. She must have been drunk though. I hope. She was surprisingly chipper so early in the morning considering her boob was hanging out and she didn’t know where she was.
Throughout the day I’ve been reliving this in my head. Each time I have to remind myself that this actually happened. These are the things I will never forget when I leave Sweden. Stadshuset? Moderna museet? Djurgården? They’ve got nothing on the girl in the elevator with her left boob hanging out.
So welcome to Sweden. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I wanted to.
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