Day 2 - Copenhagen, Denmark, Two out of Three Ain't Bad

Tony's View

Last night I was lying around, half‑asleep, half‑annoyed, wondering if—after all the calls—the bag would actually make it onto the Toronto → Copenhagen flight. And of course, the only thing running through my head was Meat Loaf: “Two out of three ain’t bad.” Except when you only have half your bike, it’s definitely bad.

I kept waking up like a kid on Christmas morning, checking the tracking. Then at 2:15 a.m., boom: “Bag ready to load.” A little later: “Bag loaded.” Finally, I could sleep without dreaming about lost luggage.

The Air Canada rep told me I could swing by the airport at 11:00 a.m. and grab it off the belt. So Joan stayed at the Airbnb, and I set off on a 35‑minute metro mission.

When I got there, they wouldn’t let me near the belt. “Go talk to Air Canada.” Air Canada then told me they were short‑staffed and couldn’t take me back there. It took them an hour to deliver that news. Then they sent me to the information desk, who also said they were short‑staffed. Copenhagen Airport was apparently running on a skeleton crew today.

Finally, they told me the bag would be delivered sometime between 5:00 and 10:00 p.m. Bummer

So I headed back, grabbed Joan, and we went sightseeing instead of bag‑hunting.

We headed downtown and stumbled right into an Ironman race — and not a small one. This was a full‑blown, carbon‑fiber‑everywhere, “my bike costs more than my car” kind of event. You can see all the high‑end triathlon machines in the photos. Yes, I was absolutely salivating.

We ended up right at the transition zone between the bike leg and the marathon run. Perfect spot for people‑watching and gear envy. The run was set up as a 10K loop, so the athletes passed by four times, which kept the crowd fired up and made it feel like we were part of the action instead of just spectators. You can see in the pictures that there are some pretty cool helmets.

Here you can see the runners on the left just coming off the bike leg, while the ones on the right have already knocked out one, two, or even three of the 10K loops. You could actually tell how far along they were by the bracelets — each lap earned them a new color. It was like watching an endurance race and a craft project at the same time.

During the rest of the race we decided to walk around and check out the canals and the colorful buildings that Kaye Borchers recommended. They are something special. 

We decided it was time for food — and obviously a couple of beers. While we were sitting there minding our own business, two guys walked up and sat next to us. Turns out they were ridiculously interesting. We ended up talking to Martin and Jamie for over an hour.

Both were Harvard grads with the kind of life stories that make you wonder what you’ve been doing with your time. The guy next to me was from Sydney — or should I say Sidney, since I apparently can’t spell when beer is involved. They’re working on a project in Greenland, and the material they’re mining there is so similar to what’s on the moon that they actually test moon buggies up there. Greenland: secretly NASA’s playground.

I mentioned that Trump once floated the idea of annexing Greenland, and the guy immediately launched into the strategic reasons — missile defense, Arctic positioning, all that. He said he knows the King of Greenland (which is already a wild sentence), and that Greenlanders like the USA but not the way Trump approached it. According to him, if Trump apologized, the whole thing might actually be possible.

I told him, “Well, you both live in DC — why don’t you go tell him?” He said he’d thought about it, but he might go through Marco Rubio since he knows him well. Then he casually mentioned that his best man is friends with Trump and once asked what Trump is like personally. Apparently, Trump is polite, funny, great at telling jokes, and a surprisingly enjoyable golf partner. Not exactly the description you expect to hear over beers in Copenhagen.

There were plenty more stories, but I’m tired of typing and you’re tired of reading, so we’ll call it even.

Here’s one of the finishers I talked to after he gathered all his gear. Joan and I were honestly amazed that he was still walking — let alone looking like a functioning human being. He told us he finished in 8 hours and 12 minutes. Eight hours! He said everything was going great until the last 10K, when he “struggled.”

Struggled? Most people are still out there grinding away at hour fifteen, bargaining with the universe and reconsidering all their life choices. If his version of struggling still gets him across the line in just over eight hours, that’s not struggling — that’s superhero territory.

Back to the lost‑luggage saga. We got back to the Airbnb at 5:00pm to wait for the delivery. Joan stayed inside on bag‑watch duty while I headed to the grocery store to stock up on supplies. I came back, grabbed a chair, cracked a beer, and parked myself by the road like some kind of suburban scarecrow whose only job was to flag down a delivery van.

We needed that bag tonight — otherwise shipping the empty bike cases to Vienna would turn into a logistical nightmare. So there I was, sitting by the street with my beer, when the phone rang. I told them I’d be out there waiting until the driver showed up.

Their response?

“Wow, you’ll be sitting out there for a while. Our driver can’t make it until tomorrow.”

Big bummer.

Are you happy yet, Puthoff?

I told them I needed it tonight. They said, “Well… if you come to the airport, we can see what we can do.”

So off to the airport I went — again. At this point I didn’t even need Google Maps. I could practically commute there blindfolded.

I arrived, and they told me they could get the bag to me at 9:30 p.m.

It was 6:00 p.m.

Not ideal.

So what did I do?

Yep — I started begging.

And then Celine came to the rescue. She worked some magic, took a picture with me, and we both celebrated like we’d just completed our own Ironman.

 I HAVE THE LOST BAG NOW, YEA!!!!

Joan's Extras

Truth be told, my luggage waiting duty involved a few naps. 😍 Our history is that it takes me longer to adjust to the new time zone and it takes Tony longer to adjust when we go home. Carol and Clyde can attest to that one because it took me days when we visited them in China, a lofty 12 hour difference.

Tomorrow may be another waiting day depending on how soon the bags to be shipped to Vienna get picked up by the courier. Nap anyone?