Expat Jon takes on the world (well... Sweden)

I'd like to start off by offering my condolences to you and yours if you lost someone in 2014.  My family here was hit with the devastating loss of two beautiful people that we will never forget.  I can only hope that the memories of those lost can live on in your heart and mind forever. ---------- It's 2015.  I know.  New Year's Day was on a Thursday and I was supposed to release a blog entry that day.  Well I didn't.  So technically the first thing I did in 2015 to my readers is lie to them.  I would say disappoint, but I don't think it was that disappointing.  Bright side: at least the standard for me is low for the rest of the year! I would love to say that I didn't write because I was too hungover.  Because I partied so hard.  Or that I had to work all day and it was too hectic.  But truth is, I was home before 2:30am (early for me on New Year's) and I was off both New Year's Eve and New Year's Day.  So it boils down...

I've stood by my word to smile and nod at, hold doors for, say hello to, laugh and overall connect with strangers here.  But sometimes my happy, approachable Americanness backfires on me.  It's the drunks.  The drunks here make me wish I was a stone cold Swede.  For some reason if there is a loud, obnoxious drunk, he/she will engage with me.  It's gotten to the point where I just expect it now. A few weeks ago I was heading out to meet my friend in the city.  It was about the normal time when people are going to begin their evening of partying.  No one should be plastered at this time of night.  The ride back home, maybe.  That's when people could have had too much to drink.  But now?  No.  So naturally, this drunk is completely passed out on the train in the group of seats next to me.  And naturally, my first instinct is to take a picture of him.  Don't judge me.  I have an Instagram account to keep interestin...