The world is
a beautiful place. Earlier today I took one of the more scenic selfies
imaginable with the artic landscape behind me. I was smiling because I had just
written a great chapter for the book version that ended with, “The journey
isn’t over but I’ve learned more about myself in these trips than I have doing
almost anything else outside of the first night I sat down to start writing my
first book. How’s it going to end? I’m probably more excited than you to find
out.” Oh, how little I knew on what was going to play out just hours later.
Also, remember how Day 7 Part 2
ended, “This may make no sense to you, but this journey here has given me so
much knowledge about myself and others and from that I feel this greater sense
of confidence because people may not be that scary after all.” I was feeling
rather elated today and this evening I had an amazing conversation with a
fellow Aspie that I met here in Hammerfest and his awareness of Asperger’s,
well, he could take my job! No, really, the terminology he used was akin to
mine. It was a great conversation but I was getting hungry so I walked down
towards a pizza place and that’s where the drama began.
When I walked in this place had an
aura of creepiness. Being a writer I could probably come up with a better word,
but that’s the exact thought that came to mind. There was no waiter and one man
at the bar. I didn’t know whether to wait or sit and I approached a table but
was unsure whether to stand or sit. The man at the bar made a motion of sit or
come here, I’m not really sure, so I walked to him and asked, “Is this the
pizza place?” to which he said yes. I then took a random table and then from
the kitchen the waitress came and brought out a menu and apologized for the
lack of an English menu. I ordered my usual pepperoni mushroom to which she
replied, “No other veggies?” You should see the pizza menus here; I’ve learned
ordering two toppings is a rarity as Norwegians love their toppings by the
dozens… or five.
I sat patiently staring out into the
Hammerfest evening and the occasional car that would drive by when the man at
the bar asked me what I was doing in Hammerfest. His English wasn’t the best
but he then walked to my table and asked if he could sit down. He asked me my
name, I replied, he said his name which I couldn’t make out, but he asked once
again what I was doing and I responded with writing a book. I then discussed
travel and that “travel isn’t so much about discovering other places but
discovering one’s self” to which he grabbed my hand and said, “I like you. You’re
special.” This was an odd reaction, I thought, and I hoped that this would be
the end of the drama. I was wrong.
The pizza came out and he asked if
he could have a piece. It was a gigantic pizza so I said yes and that’s when
the bizarre started to happen. He talked about US policy and Donald Trump, I
think, I’m not so sure because his speech was starting to slur and he admitted
his English wasn’t the best. He talked about Norway/US relations in how we are
great allies and after that he grabbed my shoulder and said, “It’d be nothing
for me to kill you.” I froze.
I’ve had intense moments in my life
the most of which was the hour long ordeal being held captive by a mob of
homeless boys in Kisumu, Kenya with my dad in 2005. While my dad and I were
both powerless we had a local pastor in the driver’s seat that essentially kept
us alive. Here, though, in the heart of winter in the blackness it brings I was
alone in Hammerfest with a stranger with his arm firmly on my shoulder making a
claim against my life. My brain instantly went into planning on how to escape.
I did think about running out screaming but this proved to be risky. I was
unaware of Norwegian gun laws and furthermore if I left without paying and it
was his word against mine I was sure I would lose and besides all this his hand
was still gripping my shoulder.
His grasp released and he said, “Nah,
I like you, you’re special and he stroked his hand on my face and inched
closer. I was all but pinned in my seat now so I decided to ignore it all. I
ignored his comments, I ignored his threat and kept eating. I had gone to eat
and that’s what I was going to do. Inside I was a train wreck and he, as I kept
looking out into space, said, “You’re thinking a lot, what are you thinking?”
and I replied, “Oh, you know, jetlag has hit me hard, I’m just trying to stay
awake.” And in my brain I was thinking, “breathe… breathe… Ignore it! Hopefully
he’s just drunk and he is harmless.” All the while he kept touching my hand,
arm, and shoulder.
Whether or not he was harmless, at
that moment, was in material because a real threat had been posed. My appetite
quickly waned and I wanted out. He kept talking about the “impending fight to
the death” which was about the only words I understood for a while then he
said, “I hope you realize I don’t speak for all Norwegians… I’m drunk.” And then
a few sentences later he once again said, “But yeah, it’d be nothing for me to
kill you.” I had to get out now!
There were five others in this place
now and I thought back to when I made a potentially catastrophic mistake in
2011 when I gave a ride to two strangers in Springfield, Missouri in the heart
of winter and I told myself I’d learn from that mistake by never being
isolated. During those times he said I was, “thinking” I indeed was; I was
thinking escape plans. Screaming was high up on the list as was, if he chased
me, jumping into the water as that would surely cause a scene… this, obviously,
was a last resort. My primary objective was to get out of there without a scene
and without any event that was beyond words from happening. To do this I figure
I’d use him against him because I made eye contact for the first time and said,
“I’m unsure of how one pays in Norway, do I go up to the counter?” and like a
switch turning off the nonsensical musings went away and in perfect English he
said, “yeah, over there” and he backed up and I was able to get up. He walked
with me to the counter and then sat down at the bar and instantly picked up a
conversation with a man that was there. I paid as quickly as possible and I
didn’t worry about the change but I didn’t leave unnoticed as the drunk man
stood up and said, “I like you” and he extended his hand so I extended mine and
he gave me this almost secret society handshake and as soon as that was over I
left as fast as I could and I made sure he wasn’t going to follow and I had
plans as to where to go should this happen but he remained seated at the bar
and I’m sure tomorrow he will have no memory of the threat he laid upon me.
Was he a threat? Probably not. Was
this anywhere to the magnitude or length of the Kenya ordeal? No, but when a
man you don’t know stares you in the eye and says, “Kill you” the internal
reaction is going to be severe. I didn’t know who he was, if he were dangerous,
and I figured he was drunk which increased the potential volatility of the
situation. I’m going to play over and over in my brain if I did the right
thing. Should I have just left the second things took a turn for the worse, or
was ignoring it and continuing onward as if he wasn’t there the right thing to
do?
If one is going to travel one may
come across this. Going back to my day one conversation I had with the two
people on my flight from Saint Louis the man who had lived all over said, “Yeah,
I don’t know how many times I’ve had a gun to my face but you give them a
hundred bucks and they leave” but he was talking about impoverished third world
nations. This event, tonight, was in the country just voted as, “best place to
live” in the world. Maybe it was just the beer he had drank, and maybe,
according to the person I had that great conversation with just prior to this
event that I conferred with after, “some Norwegians just have to be strong like
that and may not realize that a joke like that will be taking seriously.” Joke
or not it’s been two hours and I’m still shaking. For those twenty or so
minutes I was but along for the ride. I had my various escape plans but I
couldn’t predict a single thing that could happen. Was I simply frozen into
eating my meal and powerless to ask for help, but how could I ask? The waitress
didn’t speak English so if I yelled for help it may have just riled up the
drunk man.
Where do I go from here? I had just
found this newfound confidence and was willing to open up and immediately I’m
reminded of the randomness and potentially villainous ways of some. I can’t let
this influence me, but how can I not? Events like the one tonight can and
usually play over and over in my head and the feeling of his hand firmly
gripping my shoulder and uttering those awful words are as vivid now as when it
happened. However, what I also need to force myself to realize is by my words,
and lack thereof, I got out, I’m safe, and nothing was done that will have any
lasting physical consequences.
You’re reading this either thinking
I did the right thing, or maybe you’re thinking I should’ve gotten up right
away, but it’s easy to second guess the play call when you’re not flooded with
panic and fear.
To end this I have to go back with
what I told the drunk man, “travel isn’t so much about discovering other places
but discovering one’s self” because am I going to let this moment become the
memory of Norway and hinder my ability to travel or am I stronger now? I think
I handled this ordeal in the most professional way possible. Is this what I was
supposed to discover on this trip in that I can be on my own, and handle
whatever life throws at me? This is the essence of travel and if one isn’t
willing to find out the answers then perhaps that person may never know what it
is like to live.