Two road construction workers in Oslo. We’ve got Magnum PI standing around in his short shorts and TC playing with the big fun toys all day.
Magnum: “Come on, TC, just let me fly the chopper a little bit.”
TC: “N-O, no. The last time I let you touch the controls you nearly put my bird in a tree on Kama’a Ma’a.”
Magnum: “That’s not fair, it was windy that day and besides my underwear wasn’t riding up my crack and it made me nervous. I’ll let you drive my Ferrari.”
TC: “It’s Robin Masters’ Ferrari, and it’s in the shop.”
Magnum: “It’ll be out tomorrow, the guy promised me! We both know Higgins is Robin Masters and besides I won a bet with him so I’ve got use of it all week.”
TC: “What was the bet?”
Magnum: “I bet Higgins that I would wear these boss shorts to a wedding reception for a good friend of mine. I bet him I wouldn’t.”
TC: “You mean you wore some other pants?”
Magnum: “No, I skipped the wedding. He’s not that good a friend.”
But seriously, who would wear these shorts to do road construction work on a cool, overcast, windy day in Oslo?
I must look like a friendly person. I get approached and asked for directions all the time. Despite the fact that a lot of the time I’m gawking like a tourist or have a camera around my neck. People swerve to the side of the road to talk to me in some foreign tongue. When I ask them to repeat in English they do and I usually have to inform them that I have no clue.
Just tonight in about a half hour I got approached by two people who asked me if I knew the way. One asked me in thickly accented English if I knew where the cinema was and so I pulled out my map and started looking around for it. He thanked me but said he’d rather just ask someone who knew where it was. Where’s the fun in that?
The next person who came up to me asked if I knew the way to eternal life. He was a Scottish Mormon. I didn’t know they existed. This is the second time in a foreign city that I’ve been approached by a missioning Mormon – the first being a kid from Utah missioning in Vilnius – and asked about my opinions on the meaning of life and everything. Maybe I just look like I know what I’m doing and they want to know my secrets.
You’d think that people would know better. I’ve usually got a beard, shaggy hair and am dressed like someone who buys his clothes in some kind of American thrift store or something. And yet Europeans still ask me if I know how to get to the movies and to Heaven. Go figure.