Copenhagen - The Awakening of the Irish Gypsy Nomad

It was the summer of 1987 - Copenhagen was to be my first trip outside of Ireland (not counting camping with the parents in Enger-land).  With only a week left before departure, the original five adventurous college classmates eager to spend a summer overseas and earn some cash dwindled down to just two. The night before we were due to depart, the last brave comrade in arms phoned to tell me he 'lost his passport' and wouldn't be able to go.  I had already quit my prestigious part-time job stocking shelves in a supermarket, so I had little option but to go it alone.
I was a shy, innocent, clueless Irish Paddy heading off to the unknown.  My sisters boyfriends brother was supposedly aware of my imminent arrival so I least I had a contact on the ground...or so I thought.  On the plane to Denmark, I chatted with an Irish girl (Kathryn) next to me and told her of my plight.  "Who is supposed to meet you at the airport" she asked.  "John H.", I responded.  "I doubt it she said - sure isn't he away for a week at the Roskilde Rock Festival!"
I should probably write something eloquent like "on comprehending my imminent dilemma my heart sank...blah blah blah", but in reality I nearly shat my pants.  I was to arrive in a strange land with nowhere to go and no one to help...FECK!
On seeing my concern she said - "but there's a spare room above our flat where you can stay a few nights and I'll introduce you to the Irish Burger King crew".

It was only recently I thought about what a pivotal moment that was.  Without her contacts and hospitality, I might well have been back home in Dublin a week later with my tail between my legs and possibly never have been keen to leave the ol' sod again.  Instead, I got a job at Burger King <- [click me], and met a ton of wonderful people and gained an appetite for wandlust that continues to this day. Thanks Kathryn wherever you are..
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