Travel Diaries: Copenhagen, The Legend of Jon the Fisherman

Posted in Travel Diaries on Oct 03, 2016

It was my last night in Copenhagen and I was fiending for some poon. Unfortunately it was a weekday and my prospects had been pretty slim all night. It wasn’t looking too good.

I was sitting comfortably at the bar getting hooked up with drinks by the cute Estonian bartender. We had met a year before on a previous trip while she was working at the same bar. She had just given me a brightly colored shot of who-knows-what when the guy next to me makes a comment about it. He introduced himself as Jon (pronounced Yaan). He was a tall blonde Icelandic dude who worked on a fishing boat. Apparently there was a break between fishing seasons so he was staying in Copenhagen for a few weeks. I had just started a mini Euro trip and was playing it by ear. I asked him about places to go in Iceland. He told me about a festival I should check out there. He explained that is was basically a weekend long concert full of horny Icelandic women and sex in tents. At that point I knew we were on the same page and decided we would be wingmen for the night.

We started by chatting up some cute Swedish chicks that had come in to dance. We didn’t get far because they were just passing time before they had to catch a train back to Sweden. Next we moved onto a set of two Portuguese women. They weren’t having it either. With all our prospects gone and the bar starting to close we headed down the road in search of poon. We came up with a plan. Jon had a place so all we needed to do was scoop up some girls and invite them to the after party. Simple.


Not long after leaving the first bar we came upon two cute girls headed straight for us. They were young and bubbly. One was a 7 brunette. Her friend was a 5 or 6. She had tan skin and was mixed. They were walking with two other dudes, one on each side of the group as if they were protecting the prize within. We didn’t care. We asked them what they were up to and the girls were immediately very receptive to us. We walked and talked about 50 feet before stopping in front of a karaoke bar. The dudes they were with, obviously annoyed at our presence, went inside and told the girls to meet them there. Big mistake.

The A-Team was on the case! We started to put in work. I called dibs on the brunette, Zarah. Jon was a little upset but he agreed. The other girl, Mercedes, had some crooked teeth that I just couldn’t get over. We isolated our girls in separate corners. Zarah and I chatted a bit. She was 18 told me how she was kinda seeing some guy but “all he cares about is sex.”

“Oh that must be horrible!”, I said in my most sarcastic voice. I gave her a smirk with a seductive stare and a few seconds later we were making out.

After a brief makout session I glanced over at Jon to see how well he was doing. He confirmed that he was in like Flynn with a mischievous smile. It was time to move this party elsewhere. We suggested they come with us for an after party and they agreed. Just then a group of beta "fuck-boys" appeared from out of nowhere.

I call them "fuck-boys" because they were just that. Boys no older than 18 or 19 fucking around in the street. They were dressed like slobs and had been drinking cheap beers in the street all night. They obviously knew our targets because they immediately started chatting and joking around with them in Danish.

I didn’t let this bother me right away because I knew my girl was hooked. She would come over to me to make out after every minute or two of joking around with her friends. We needed to move though because we were wasting time with this rabble. Jon’s girl suggested that we head down the road to another bar that was open late. Fuck! This was not our plan but it would get us away from the pests distracting our targets so we agreed. We waved down a taxi bike and jumped in back with the girls on our laps. The ride consisted mostly of making out and ass grabbing. The bike rider even gave us some beers that some other customer had left behind. I made sure to tip him well.

We got to the bar and found it to be closed. “Oh well.”, I said aloud. Time for the after party. I turned around to suggest we jump in a cab and guess who shows up? The fuck-boys.

We head back towards the karaoke bar girls and fuck-boys in tow. The fuck-boys kept asking dumb questions. They seem obsessed with the fact that I was American. “You want to fuck Zarah don’t you?”, one of them asked. I ignored him. I don’t answer to fuck-boys. Zarah was out of earshot anyway. This went on for about 10 minutes. We were just one big gaggle. Me, Jon, the fuck boys and our targets walking drunk down the road.

The fuck boys decided to run and skip like idiots up ahead of us. They screamed something back in Danish and the girls decided to skip after them. I was about to go and catch up with Zarah when Jon placed his arm in front to stop me. I’ll never forget the next thing that came out of his mouth. “No! We are men!”, he said. “We don’t have to deal with this shit!”

I paused ashamed at myself for letting myself be dragged around by these silly girls. “You’re right. Fuck this!”, I said. “They can either come with us or stay with these jerk-offs.”

We continued walking at a normal pace down the road. We eventually caught up with the girls and the fuck-boys who had congregated near the karaoke bar. We presented our ultimatum to the girls and immediately their faces went blank. It was only for a moment though. They looked at each other and then Zarah said, “We’re coming with you.” A-Team 1, Fuck-boys 0!

We got into a cab and headed for Jon’s place. As we pulled away I couldn’t help but notice the dejected look on one fuck-boy’s face. We had ruined their fun.

When we got to Jon’s place it was just a matter of escalation. Zarah eventually told me flat out that “We should have sex but not here.” I agreed and we left for my hotel room. Somehow she had lost one of her shoes while at Jon’s place. After about 5 minutes of looking and failing to find it she said “Fuck it!” and she got in the cab in just her socks. It must have been a little strange for the receptionist when we walked through the lobby to my room.


I fucked her that night and morning then walked her to her bike which was parked in one of the main squares. The whole time she was walking around with no shoes. I found it quite amusing and I’m sure many tourists did as well. It was a great ending to my stay in Copenhagen and I owe it all to Jon the Icelandic fisherman. Thanks for reminding me about what it means to be a man.

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