That Time I Was the Only American at a Swedish Party
- Walk in the door, greeted by fifteen really good-looking guys.
- Everyone is speaking Swedish.
- Hi, nice to meet you _____. (Never gonna remember that name.)
- Why does everyone have their shoes off? Should I have my shoes off?
- But I planned my shoes specifically….
- Oh it’s rude to have them on? Oh.. Ok….
- Crap. There are holes in the toes of my tights. Crap!
- Matilda!!! Help me.
- I am in only one in a color. Everyone else is in black or navy. CRAP!
- American in red. AMERICAN IN RED!
- WHY IS EVERYONE IN BLACK OR NAVY!?
- You have to be by me. I don’t speak Swedish.
- Wait, what is this? Is it like potato salad? Ok…
- Cheers! Skål! Happy Birthday (Guy I don’t know…)!!!
- Speech!! Speech!!!!
- Yes, I’m from the States. No, I am not a Yank. Do not call me that.
- Wake me up when I’m older!
- Dance, dance, dance!
- Cotton Eye Joe (In its natural habitat written by Swedes).
- No, you do not speak better English than me.
- What the food froze?! Shit it’s cold out there.
- Dance, dance, dance!!
- A little bit slower now…
- Sit, sit, sit.
- Sleepy, sleepy, yeah I’m having a great time!
- God how do they have that much energy?
- Come on Morgan. The ride’s here.