Friday, 11 September 2009

A serious burn

After crossing Lake Michigan we came to Chicago, where an air show was taking place. It was a couple of millions visitors on that particular Sunday. All kinds of boats abounded.

A stealth plane seemed to be coming straight for us. Maybe these planes can pick out foreigners. The stealth are frightening when seen from underneath. There is nothing humanly about it, no flag, no signs, just this weird black shape. It gave me the creeps, like we were about to be abducted. I took pictures, but they were all strangely out of focus. I’m sure they learned something at Roswell.

photo: Henrik Nor-HansenMost of the boats were powerboats with drunk or semi-drunk teenagers, and temperatures were running high in the narrow gaps of the marinas. Of course, the marinas were all full.

We anchored among all the boats that continued partying. I just love blasting music when I’m tired, and maybe this was why I lost the tea pot in my lap. The lid fell off and I got steaming hot water all over my hip. I got the shorts and underwear off, Nina shouted that I had to jump in the sea to cool the burn, but I hesitated for some valuable seconds, thinking about all the people and stuff.

The burn was getting more painful, though. I had to jump bare- assed, but with my shirt still on, if that counts for something. I was hanging along Bika, with one hand on the toe rail.

I could sense a huge powerboat ease up from behind. I prepared myself for a dose of the American friendliness.

“Are you okay?” they screamed. I sort of half-turned underneath my arm, the powerboat was packed with people, and there were a certain cluster of bikini-dressed women in the bow, beer in hand. “Yes, I’m fine,” I said with a merry voice, “thank you.” I started to hear some laughter, but worse, someone declared out loud in a loud whisper: “Don’t laugh!” This, of course, produced even more laughter. And now Nina started to laugh, too. But it just wasn’t funny.