NEVER a Dull Moment...

Just in case you missed the last installment of the series of infamous Bednar bad luck experiences, I have a new one for you-

Despite the fact that I am still very tired from the rollerski race this past weekend, I decided to try to meet up with my ski coach and the Copenhagen ski club this evening for a rollerski. Unlike other training sessions, we met in the city which was a huge relief because I could carry all my ski stuff on the train rather than strapping it to my bike and biking the 25+ kilometers into and back out of the city. I actually found our meeting place on the first try, an extremely rare occurrence, but since I had come straight from school I had to ski with my backpack of school books, clothes, and ski gear until we reached the park about 30 minutes away from our meeting point. All was going reasonably well despite the fact that I was on skate skis with slow wheels and carrying a completely stuffed backpack.

The trails in the park were not paved and therefore basically useless for me. While apparently it is normal in Denmark to ski on unpaved trails by using rollerskis with larger, wider wheels, this is unusual in the US. And so, after attempting to roller around the forest on my skinny skate wheels and still toting my backpack, I took my coaches suggestion and decided to head back out to the road where I would do repeats until they came and got me. I found my way back out to the side entrance of the park, the one we had come in, and ditched my bag next to the gate. I then skied to a perpendicular road where I was going to do my repeats. I figured that every time I came up to the top of the hill I would be able to check on my bag as it was about 10 feet from the road I was on.

I started doing some double pole intervals up the hill, checking on my bag as I reached the top each time, when the group joined me on the road. After a quick name game and we started doing some hill repeats, but stopped our interval before I could see my bag. After about three or four intervals I was getting concerned about my bag and decided to go move it with the others at the bottom of the hill; it did have my train card, my cell phone, my wallet, etc. buried inside of it. As I separated from the group to go get my bag, a cop car pulled up beside me- “Are you an American?”

Oh crap. Usually that question doesn’t immediately mean it’s a bad thing, but it’s also not usually a good thing. The cops proceeded to explain to me that I had left my bag outside (although it was actually across the street from) an embassy. I’m not sure what embassy as no one else in the ski group even knew there was one there, but regardless it was obviously concerning to have a mysterious backpack, seemingly unattended for 15 minutes or so within its general area.

I managed to convince the police that I had no idea that it was an embassy, I wasn’t carrying explosives of any kind, and I would never leave my bag there again. Turns out the police had called my host family, who were now absolutely distraught with worry, but were kind enough to call them back to let them know they had found me and that I was okay. I’m proud to say I am the first student they have EVER hosted about whom the cops have called...perfect, just perfect.

After the incident was over I couldn’t believe my bad luck. What are the chances that the building across the street from the park was an EMBASSY? It’s gotta be pretty slim. Although, the woman I was skiing with did bring up a good point saying that I was very lucky it wasn’t the US, or some other intense embassy, or else I would probably be in jail. And she’s right, the situation could have been so much worse…

The rest of the night continued in a similar pattern with the discoveries that I had placed my backpack in poop of some kind while in the park and also that only one train was running meaning I wouldn’t get home until after eight. Needless to say, I made it home to my poor host parents with yet another miserable experience to share. I am CLEARLY much more trouble to them than I am actually worth.

I’m starting to get tired of my crazy stories…