When Metallica played their five Copenhagen concerts, I didn’t go to the last show, but the third. The first night and the last night are supposed to be the best of any concert, but oh well. Everyone’s favorite drummer, Lars Ulrich, hails from those parts, so he obviously had an exclusive family and friends backstage area. That's why I went. Lars and I are blood. Kind of.
I was there with my in-laws, who just happen to know Lars Ulrich’s father. Even though I’m no friend or family member, I tried to play the part. I nodded politely when Connie Nielsen walked by and goofily smiled at her kids. I even had a chat with the cousin and tried to look as casual as can be when I approached the holy altar: an open bar. Oh, you sweet little sexy virgin open bar. If there’s one thing for which Danes lose all self-control, it’s an open bar. Fact!
We are used to spending unimaginable amounts of money on everyday goods. I ordered a tap beer at a café the other day and almost bit my tongue off when I got a bill for $16.99. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Where’s the lap dance? Teddy bear? Anything!
So when on a rare occasion something is free (especially alcohol) we go nuts; a very charming feature. I started out nice and civilized with six or seven tap beers before I turned to vodka and gin. Soon I was a mumbling wreck.
In between going to the street to smoke and hitting the toilet, nothing really happened till Mr. Lars entered the room. Clap, clap, clap and back to business. He sat down with his family and enjoyed some red wine. For all you Lars gossip buffs, it looked like a shiraz from where I was standing.
Around 2 AM I wandered up to my girlfriend and told her it was time to get a photo with our drumming hero. “No, no, no, nooo,” she said, shaking her head, but it was already too late. I was determined. Some other folks were already having their picture taken, so we queued up like real fans would do. Just when our moment came he started talking to someone else, and since I wasn’t interested in opening my mouth and my girlfriend thought it was a stupid idea to begin with, we just stood there with our shitty camera and looked bewildered.
Finally, a family member or something got tired of looking at us, so he got up and poked the little man's shoulder. That's when my girlfriend lost it for a while. She turned red and started gabbling about her relation to the Ulrich family. I stayed silent and waited for the flash.
Minutes later I was taking a leak, when Lars stepped up to the urinal next to me. I wasn’t done yet, but my dick was immediately star-struck. My mouth wasn’t though. I should have kept it shut, but I was all open bar at this point. My English vocabulary had taken a major hit, so all he did was nod and look confused as we left the toilets. After that I had to call it a night.
A few days later Las was given an award by the Danish Musicians Union. He received a painting by Danish artist Kristian Hornsleth and 50,000 Krones (568 beers at the café). When asked what he would spend it on, he answered that it would help pay for the bar tab last night. I found out later that the last concert was held without an open bar in the VIP area. Lars Ulrich's friends and family (with their combined super powers) had knocked the total bar tab up to 50,000 dollars. The passes were good for all five concerts, which means a lot of uncles and aunts did a good job. So there you go, even Metallica can’t afford Danes around an open bar. I’m glad I made it before they shut it down. Thanks for the beers, Lars.
SIGURD KONGSHØJ LARSEN