Reunion

I was watching TV and saw that a terrorist had been arrested in Brazil. There was a lot of talk on whether or not this would help the Republicans in the mid-terms, and I felt I needed a weekend away from the country before Election Day on Tuesday. Out of the corner of one of the shots of the Iranian guy being arrested, I saw my old Norwegian companion, Mads. Rio seemed like as good a place as any to take a weekend off.

When I made it into the city, it didn't take long to follow the trail of booze, women, and Scandanavia to where Mads was keeping himself. He invited me to join him and the women he was with for a night of fun at their hotel room, and of course I obliged. As I snorted the third line of coke off the barely legal Barzilian girls ass, I wondered what I was doing there. Did I come back for this?

At that point the Mayor McCheese burst into our room wieldeing a .44 magnum. Before he could shoot he was tackled by ESPN football analyst Mike Golic. He and fellow analyst Mark Schlereth carried the mayor out, then Mike Greenberg came in and threw some hundreds on the floor. I looked at Mads, and we laughed.

We spent the day drinking coffee and mooching off German tourists as they shot golf balls from their veranda at street urchins below. The grapes were fantastic. I thought I could stay there forever...

I was reminded of when I first met Mads. I was at a bar near North Station, and had spotted a group of German tourists, much like the ones we were with at that moment. I figured they'd be ripe to mooch off of, and a cocky, young Norwegian Harvard ornithology PhD candidate had the same idea. We decided there were enough of them to go around, but were shut out when Tommy Lee Jones stepped in and cockblocked us.

"You're with me, Krauts" was all he said, and they joined him, leaving Mads and me holding the bag. We got to talking and hit it off. He was intrigued by how I ran the city, and I was fascinated by his Norwegianess. We were a match made in Newbury Street.

I thought maybe he was thinking of that too as we sat in that suite, smoking Parliaments and eating Persian caviar (I don't know where he got it all). But I knew right away that he wasn't when he said:

"Do you think I'd make a great Sean Hannity? I mean it can't be that hard, just say whatever people think a conservative would say, and publish books saying the same thing."

"What's the draw?"

"What?"

"What's the draw? I could see if it was a get rich quick scheme. But you have money, so why else would you do it? You could also right sclock sentimentality books like Mitch Albom does that are best sellers, but again, why? I'd need a little more intellectual stimulation."

"Like Laguna Beach?"

"Exactly."

He wasn't being facetious, Mads gets Laguna like I get Laguna, like most people don't get Laguna. And that's why no matter how far we are apart, we'll always be close.

He saw me off at the airport on Monday. We had a good weekend, but we knew it would end. As I sat on that plane and watched it taxi down the tarmac, I thought about making it stop and running back. But then I realized I'd be arrested and probably charged as a threat to Homeland Security. And maybe that was for the best. We took off and I watched the city grow smaller and smaller.

I looked up at the TV in front of me, and saw Brandi trying to wax intellectual about some variety show she was doing with David Hasselhoff. That's when I heard:

"She's got the IQ of a raisin."

It was Tommy Lee Jones.

"And yes," he said. "I'm still a little experimental."