A Viking in Tbilisi

The last time I was in Copenhagen, the tow-headed Mads Kleppe fetched me on a stormy night. He was on his bicycle and told me to get in.

“But it’s awful out there!” I told him.

I know that when Mads tells me to do something, it’s usually best to comply. So, I allowed him to fold and tuck me into the basket of his cargo bike. For a couple of hours in between stops, the wind and rain thrashed us. Damn. There was no photo to document the escapade, but trust me, this was a true whirlwind wine bar hop to remember—I was bone-soaked and very happy.