‘Swede in the Middle East’ or ‘This Makes Me Olaf Out Loud’

Other than the mind-boggling accent and their general quirky nature – I love the Swedes! You know, people from Sweden, the creators of all that is IKEA, meatball perfectionists… they are cool – and they scare easy too!

Now it is a little known fact that not too long ago I took a part time job at IKEA here in the Seattle area. I was supplementing my struggling contractor business and latched into their stocking crew. I was up and lugging those pallet jacks around that monstrous store every morning at 4:00 AM. The pay was decent for entry-level work, and I was looking for something that required VERY little thought. I just wanted to punch a clock and get paid – I had other work at home that would use some of my mental resources.

Every-so-often they would have what they called “Coffee with Anders and Bjorn”, who were the two owners of this location. (The Seattle IKEA is one of the FEW locations that are not corporately owned. The two gentlemen were good friends with Mr. I.K. and snagged them a franchise.) Bjorn had only a slight accent, having had spent most of his life in the UK and Canada. Anders however had one hell of an accent. I have found out how to perfect this so-called affliction that they call their accent. If you reach into your mouth and hold your tongue down… and try to talk – PRESTO! You are now fluent in Swede-speak. The only thing entertaining about the “coffee” was when they would talk about their exploits in Canada… or as Anders called it “Canana”.

I left that job when my contracting with my current, and now only, client went to full-time scale. I was being sent to Dubai in the UAE to work on location for three and a half months – and I was not willing to commute every morning to make sure the Ekorre and Hultet were filled to the brim.

In Dubai we rented an apartment – which would house anywhere from six to nine of us at a time. One of the people who were there the entire duration of the trip, was a Swedish gentleman by the name of Ove. (Pronounced “Oh-va”, but we called him “Oh-vee”.) Ove was a great guy, and before the end of the trip Andy and I had passed many American-isms and slang. For instance we taught him how to respond to a sarcastic question honestly, and then wait the approximately three seconds required before following his reply with “…ASS!” It was a wonderful sight.

Speaking of wonderful sites, we did what we were told was not very possible. We took a catamaran out into waters around the hotels and flipped that sucker right over!

I had never sailed before – so Andy put me through some quick instruction. It was pretty much our Cat versus Daryl’s (another guy with us, from the UK) catamaran. Daryl is a great sailor – he had his cat up on one pontoon thingy and flying by us. While we, (Andy, myself and Ove) were just putting along. Until day number two that is. I was tired of only being allowed to trim the jib – so Andy taught me how to control the main sail and he was on jib duty. It didn’t take too long to get the hang of going straight – in fact I was really really good at it. Then Andy instructed me on how to maneuver the sail so that I caught more power and thrust from the breeze… SWEET BABY! We were lifting one pontoon out of the water and FLYING down the waterway! It was soooo cool!… until I flipped us.

We kept lifting that pontoon out – and higher, and higher. Well the catamarans we were riding had this mesh thing on top – basically a flat platform for us to sit on, while we careened to our immanent doom. Finally the cat slammed to a halt, and sat there with its sail perched lovingly sideways in the water. Climbing on the vessel and trying to counter the weight of the ocean on the sail was worthless, and eventually managed to flip it completely upside down. Now we were floating, with a few pontoons, and a hobie cat with its sail sticking straight down… we couldn’t hear the assured laughter from the beach – as we were too far out… but believe me – people saw us flip.

Not too long later the catamaran’s owner showed up on a jet ski and with my help quickly got it righted. Damn he was smart, just turned it so when the sail was just above water – the breeze did most of the work for us and plopped it back over. YAY! Andy and I were ecstatic! Ove was not. Ove actually was not the least bit amused, and there were a few reasons… only one of which I would say was a good reason. He cut his leg when the cat flipped – and hanging out in the salt water was probably making it hurt like a mother. The other was that I kept telling him not to kick so hard while treading water – cause we didn’t want him attracting the sharks. His already pale skin went to a new shade of dead. After we were back on the “recreational vehicle” (that makes it sound more fun) I told him I was just kidding and that there were no sharks out there. “I know that, thanks.” was his reply. Then about three seconds later, “Ass!”

Be Sociable, Share!

•