I felt naked without a beanie. I mean, who the fuck did I think I was walking into such a place so severely underdressed. Now I know why Bjørn's moustache was twitching so incessantly - he smelled danger. I stood out like a proper country kid amongst all these neon windbreakers and slacks. These weren't people, these were walking vintage store mannequins.
I line up behind some beanie-men to get a drink at the bar.
"How old are you?" the bartender with a beard and long beautiful pigtails asks me.
"Old enough" I say but still hand him my ID.
He gives it a cursory glance and flicks his hair behind his shoulders and starts to pour me a craft beer. I didn't even ask for a beer.
"Hundred and forty kroner"
I didn't really feel like fighting him. I have very few rules in life but one of them is to never fight men with pigtails - you never know what else these people are capable of.
I pay up and find my way over to Bjørn. He's sitting with some other people who seem to be his friends by the that bench by the big window. I approach them but Bjørn doesn't seem to want to notice me.
"Hei" I say in my most affected southern accent.
Some of the others nod and smile in my direction.
"Oh, hei. Everyone this is my friend Tim. He's in Oslo for a couple of days"
They nod again. I take a seat gingerly next to a fairly handsome blond guy.