Kronprinsessen

21/3/12

 

So a bit late on this one, since it happened before my last post. On the 11^th, I was working my usual job at the ski simulator, and it just so happened to be the last day of the World Cup at Holmenkollen. While this meant I had very little business, it also meant that the King would arrive like he did the day before to watch the (men’s) jumping. I had brought my camera for other reasons, and had hoped this might occur. While it had only been him and the Queen the day before, this time it was the both of them and the Prince, his wife, their kids, and their very fluffy dog. To give you an idea of how close they were to my area, I was within the security circle that was established and cordoned off. I was at my furthest maybe thirty feet from, with direct line of sight.

 

(Quick note: They established a security line around my area, it being dug into a wall, essentially, but did not examine my very own person. I was not patted down, they did not inspect my area, and not finding my backpack in the kiosk, did not inspect it to make sure there were no weapons. Weird being in a safe country, huh?)

 

This is neat and all, but I got the main thrill when the exact same thing happened the year before. I even titled the album on Facebook “Schuyler meets the King” though I didn’t actually. I didn’t need to choke my way through a conversation in Norwegian with him, didn’t have to bow or shake his hand, nor did I have to figure out what to call him. I merited the same attention as would be afforded a stray dog. On my break, I went up to the museum, and the Queen and the First Lady of Iceland were getting a tour from our museum’s director, and I was within range as they came out. Lubka was the luckier one in the exchange, I suppose, since the Queen told her “Thank you” (English being the common language between here and Iceland).

 

But hey, we’re a national arena, I’ve worked serving diplomats, met some people from the South African secret service, and got to talk to Madeline Rees (though that was a different event). So I got to go back to my post and wait for the security circle to disperse so I could get customers again (or just read).

 

But as the games continue, I look up, and see a very alert fluffy dog inspecting my simulator from the edges of the concrete step into my area. The dog weighs the pros and cons of engaging a ride in the simulator, and decides, perhaps on the side of questioning the notion of money as worth, and using some of this personal worth to be moved and shaken for five minutes in a facsimile of skiing like Aksel Lund Svindal, that what would allow him to come down on one side or the other would be a good sniff. On the other end of the leash happens to be princess Mette-Marit with her two kids (and some other guy that doesn’t make the front of the postcards).

 

She is very tan, especially for March, and very blond, and does not look quite right in her wool socks that go halfway to her knees. The only other thing I know is the prince met her while she was working at a restaurant, and she has a kid from a previous marriage. She looks like she would be more at home on a shopping street in New York than in a cabin beset by snow in a Norwegian mountain range. But these are just outward appearances, and she was nice to me and really enjoyed watching her kids have fun.

 

She asks me if her son is old enough to take a ride, and, not knowing if he’s old enough or not, I say sure. She orders three tickets, and I tell her the total, this other guy, the dog handler, moves in to pay, and I really really hope the machine doesn’t have one of it’s moody spells, where it suddenly loses air pressure and drops, or the screen goes pink, or the doors fail to close, or the power goes out. I sneakily snap a couple pictures, and everything finishes smoothly. She leaves.

 

My boss comes and I show her the pictures, and we are a bit giddy. Ok, so I still get a little excited by stuff like that. But it’s pretty cool.

 

-Schuyler

 

Summation of the Action: Just enjoying the ride.