High and Dry Enough

Just another day in the land of ice – Greenland. Our travel began 422 days ago. This morning we met a strange fellow – apparently he was Greenlander because his mother was. We discovered him in a pile of snow fast asleep and we asked him “Hey you need any help, or are you OK?” He answered with his drunken voice, “No no no no no, I’m fine, completely fine”. We hailed his drunken Greenlander ass onto the sleigh, and continued our travel north. At this point we were half way through our journey across the inland ice with the purpose of exploring new species of birds. So far we have seen an eagle, a nightingale and some swans – why the swans were there we did not know?!

After months of nothing but blubber and Arla Foods we discovered a restaurant, Burger King, in the middle of nowhere. Despite the large amount of warning signs (DANGER powerful magnet always on – Drink DELICIOUS Coca Cola – Tuborg: Remember 4 of the cold ones – Keep Out!) we chose to enter anyway. This Burger King was no ordinary Burger King – first of all there were absolutely no natives in there at all, only Jews. The ceiling was a large drawing of a weird man making an O-mouth. In the corner of the ceiling we saw the label “The Scream” – none of us had ever heard of it before. Secondly they only served Garlic, Red onion and Sweet potato fries. At precisely 13.21 a funny looking man with a weird moustache, greasy hair, a strange uniform and a peculiar taste for the Arian race, whipped out what seem like a nice children’s book named “American Psycho – German Edition”; the man’s name was Adolf Hitler.

Due to our incredible navigation skills, we knew that when Saturn was ascending, which it currently was, we had to continue our travel. Thanks to the gift shop, we had a lovely memory of a Posh Pink lipstick, which kept our lips nice and dry. Since we only had a nail, a hammer and a saw as our travel tools, and the Greenlander had nothing but beer, the journey had proved much more difficult than expected, and would much likely continue at a snail-like paste. Luckily I had packed my trustworthy Desert Eagle .50, which served both as protection and a hunting resource.

Not many hours later the Greenlander passed away. Well, not as much passed away, as I shoot him. He had obtained frost bites and severe hypothermia after our weekly winter bathing (a tradition from where we come from); the trick is to stay high and dry enough, which proved difficult at times with 50 below zero. Fortunately, we heard a child’s innocent voice in the distant “Mommy, I want to ride the tju tju train”. At a time like this we could not believe our luck, especially since our only supplies left were the Greenlander’s share of beer. We got on the train, and left Greenland, the land of ice, behind us; with nothing but the memories.

By Jakob Nors, Sanne Christiansen, Julie Valentin & Pernille Seibæk