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A loud pounding on my door one tired Friday morning started the chain of events leading up to my not-entirely-voluntary decision to take the infamous “Danish boat” from Oslo to Copenhagen along with my fellow students. Existing solely for the purpose of allowing Norwegian citizens to enjoy the dreaded sins of legal gambling and cheap booze, this seaborne miniature of Las Vegas shuttles continously between the two Scandinavian capitals. It’s incredibly popular, especially on trips such as this one when the age limit is only 18 – two years below the legal limit for liqour in Norway. I fully expect this trip to confirm every rumor I’ve ever heard about it: a tacky, wall-to-wall-carpeteed, neon-lit cesspool of every human vice imaginable. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, I’m going to embrace this Hunter S. Thompson-esque Sixth Reich and experience all it has to offer. This winter break, I’m going Gonzo.
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