This is a short story that happened about ten years ago, but that still makes me smile whenever I come to think about it.
About ten years ago I was on my way back home from a conference in the US and had a connecting flight at Kastrup Airport (which is one of my favorite airports) in Copenhagen (to be clear; that’s in Denmark). We had just landed and all the passengers were disembarking. Just as I had entered the airport building I heard a voice behind me; someone from the same flight was asking me something. Imagine an exaggeratedly stereotypical surfer-dude / stoner type of guy with long blond hair and clothes that would be perfect for Malibu, but definitely not for Copenhagen in November. That’s what I saw when I turned around. In a thick (again, stereotypical, thanks to Hollywood) California accent the guy asked me:
“What place is this?”
“Excuse me?” I asked baffled by the unexpected question.
“Umm… Where are we?” The surfer asked again.
“Copenhagen.” I answered.
“OK. Cool.” The guy said, pausing and looking around. “So, is that Germany?”
“No. Denmark.” I replied even more baffled.
“Cool. Thanks, bro.” The guy said and walked cheerfully away.