A Home Depot truck and some cough syrup

So....I'm going to write in English for a couple of posts. Dear Danish family and friend - Please don't judge me and be all "Oh, Excuuuuuuuse me, Brigitte Nielsen!". I'm starting to look into a couple of projects in New York, that I'd like to work on, and for that reason, it would be really nice to have a site to direct people to, to show them that I can have opinions in more than one language. I'll throw in some nice Danish sarcasm, so you'll know I'm still me.

 I'm alive....but life's been a little crazy, most of it good-crazy, these past weeks. Fall is a very popular season for Danes to visit New York, and we have had so many wonderful family members and friends come to see us  - meaning, our remoulade and lakrids stocks are booming! :-D
Also, Christian's been traveling, Hugo's been sick, I've been sick, and you know - life.

However, last week life took a really nasty turn. It was kind of windy in the morning, so I had to debate Hugo on the lack of a bike ride to school. I went home and went on with my day. I was running a little early for once when I went to pick up Hugo, so I decided to leave West St one block sooner than usual to get a cup of coffee on my way. The streets were filled with trick or treaters, kids were laughing, screaming and running everywhere.
Now, I've been really good at not posting annoying photos of my kid in his Halloween costume on Instagram, but here goes:

I picked up Hugo and as I was leaving, I saw Caitlin, who has the most adorable little girl, Juliette, in the toddler room. Hugo is absolutely smitten with this little girl and they love to play together at the playground (when they're not being toddlers and throw things at each other, that is). We decided to take the kids to a playground and were a little surprised to see the place completely empty, but figured that everybody was probably trick or treating. We'd been there for a couple of minutes when Caitlin's husband called her. He wanted to know where she was, and when she said that we were on the playground on Chambers st, he told her to get out of the playground and go home immediately. He'd just heard that there was a shooter on Chambers st. I must admit that she was being pretty cool about it, so I didn't want to freak out - we got up and left.
When I turned the corner, the scene was pretty awful. The street was filled with school kids, who were hugging and crying, police vehicles the size of houses were thrown on the sidewalk and officers in bulletproof vests were pulling heavy machine guns out of trunks. Everywhere I looked there was police, fire fighters, sirens, shouting and the ever-present sound of helicopters above us.
Now, I've taught Hugo that we always say "Hello Police!", when we see a police officer, and the little guy was suddenly a little stressed out about that notion, especially since my legs had turned into drum sticks and we were moving down the street at Road Runner speed.

I managed to get Christian on the phone to tell him that we were ok and that we were on our way home. As we were walking, I tried not to look at the police fences and where the crime scene appeared to be, as I'd just been there 10 minutes ago. We got home and in a moment's weakness I didn't even realize that our sweet doorman had sneaked two small bags of candy into Hugo's hands. Hugo was trying not to look at me, because he knew that the bags would probably be confiscated by the very local police if I saw them.
Most of that day was most likely stored as "best day EVER" in Hugo's mind - tons of police, lights, sirens, candy, Halloween decorations, homemade pizza, iPad galore while I was holding him so tight on my lap and about 5 mio kisses from his dad in the evening.

As soon as they cleared the police fences, Hugo and I were back on our usual morning route to school. In the intersection of West and Chambers, people had started to leave flowers, put up Stars and Stripes and leave small notes. A man stopped, bowed his head and did the sign of the cross. And then New York happened and I had to smile to myself - A guy stopped and wrote "You are love" with chalk on the pavement. Another guy stopped to look at it - took the chalk and corrected it into "You are love(d)". Returned the chalk to the first guy and walked away. If you wanna do it, do it right. God, I love this place!

That first day without the fences, the sidewalk as well as the bike path were filled with New Yorkers - not to look at the crime scene, because there was absolutely no sign of it, but to demonstrate (I would like to believe), that THIS is our city and only WE get to decide where and when we get to live. Oh.....do I get to call myself a New Yorker after 3 years? I guess not, but last week I definitely felt like one.

To leave things on a more positive note...here's a little story about my adventures with American cough syrup last night:

I'd like to thank that insane cough syrup that my doctor prescribed for me yesterday....and maybe adopt it.
After 8 days with a cough that has turned my stomach into a knot of sprained muscles , I finally went to the doctor. Dr Smerd looked extremely tired, and I don't blame her - I was probably the 67th patient that day who thought she was dying from a cough. After establishing that I would survive from this condition from hell, she ordered me to
a. Get a humidifier (a sign that we're clearly not Americans - we don't have any humidifiers)
b. Eat some weird reflux pills
c. Pick up a prescription for some cough syrup

Now, first two went down without any trouble. Last one made her turn her chair and look at me very seriously.
Dr Smerd: "So, this syrup contains kodein, which is a very powerful narcotics...."
(Me trying to not look too excited)
Dr Smerd: "It's very important that you don't drink alcohol when taking this"
Me: "......ehhhhh.......?"
Dr Smerd: (long clinical explanation about how syrup basically takes over my breathing apparatus)
Me: "So, you don't want me drunk and on drugs at the same time, if I forget to breathe?"
Dr Smerd: ".....ehhhhhhh.......pretty much......and please don't become addicted"
Me: "Got it"

Picked up the narcotics and had to go through an entire novel in the package of "DRINK 5ML OF THIS......NO, NOT 6ML......YOU WILL DIE, YOU HEAR ME?!". I left the red wine to Christian, borrowed Hugo's children's Tylenol measuring syringe to drink the syrup (sharing is caring) and went to bed. OH.MY.GOD! After 1 week's of constant cough during the night, I could finally sleep and only woke up twice to give a rather grumpy Hugo his blanket back (I have to have that talk with him soon). But it freaked me out a little bit that I bumped into the wall every time I got our of bed and that my throat felt like Jabba the Hut had fallen asleep in there when I woke up.

Here's to drugs!