Naked Through the City

"You got more than you deserved already, jerk. Do you think I like when strangers touch my tits in the metro?"

"Why are you naked if you don't like it?"

"It's a game I play. Go home and envision my tits while you masturbate."

"Can I at least have your phone number?"

"What do you think?" I asked and started walking.

The guy finally stopped following me and started walking the other way.

I looked at my watch. 15:48. One hour and twelve minutes left.

"I'm Christoffer, by the way," the photographer introduced himself while walking backwards ahead of me.

"Nice to meet you, Christoffer. I'm Emma."

"I know."

"I'm sure you do. You people from Ekstra Bladet are on full alert today, aren't you? How did you know I was getting off the train at that station?"

"I didn't. We're just running around trying to locate you after you shook off my colleague at Amager Beach Station. We need to take a lot of photos, you know."

We had left the residential neighbourhood and were now passing through an industrial and commercial zone. At the end of that we crossed a street and entered an enormous lawn where boys and girls in different ages and jerseys in many colours were playing soccer.

I bent down, took off my stilettos and ran across the soft grass. The kids and their parents turned their heads to watch the naked lady who was passing by, and Christoffer kept taking pictures, struggling to keep up with me.

We crossed another street and entered an area with small allotment gardens. Then we crossed a short bridge and entered the famous Free Town of Christiania, Copenhagen's hippie colony that considers itself a liberated zone apart from the rest of the Kingdom of Denmark. Probably an area where a naked woman would not attract as much attention as elsewhere.

We passed some alternative architecture and old military buildings and crossed a longer bridge across the old moat that used to be part of Copenhagen's fortifications. Now we were in Christiania proper -- a place known for its prosperous marijuana market. I headed for Pusher Street where the dealers openly sell illegal drugs under large signs stating that photography is, for obvious reasons, strictly prohibited.

Christoffer got busy stuffing his expensive equipment away as he saw where we were going and wisely tried to look like anything but a photographer.

"Hey, pretty woman, you want to buy?" one of the drug dealers shouted from behind his folding table with his herbal merchandise. He was a black guy with dreadlocks, speaking English with a Caribbean accent.

"Sorry! I have no money," I smiled and held up my empty hands.

"You can have a spliff for free if you smoke it here at my shop," he offered and held up a joint.

"For free? Why?" I asked, walking over to him.

"I think it's good for business if I have a beautiful lady at my stand."

I took the joint from his hand and put it between my lips, then leant forward towards the flame of his lighter.

"Please sit," the friendly dealer said and offered me his camping chair.

I sat down and the smoke from the free joint filled me with calm and relaxation.

"That guy with the camera bag? Is he with you?" my new drug dealer friend asked between customers who were definitely more attracted to his stand because of me demonstrating how to use the products he was selling.

"Yeah. Looks like a photographer, doesn't he? Don't worry. He's a pro. He's with Ekstra Bladet. And he's not here because of you but because of me. He knows better than to take pictures here."

"He'd better. A lot of photographers have lost very fine cameras here."

"I'm sure."

"And why does he want to photograph you?"

"Have you noticed that I'm naked? That's why!"

"Oh... I figured it might have something to do with that. And why are you naked?"

"I made a bet with Ekstra Bladet. They pay me 50.000 kroner if I turn up at their office at City Hall Square within the next..." I glanced at my watch "...57 minutes."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's a game they call Naked Through the City."

"Great game. Can I join?"

"You'd have to talk to Ekstra Bladet about that. But I doubt it," I said, finished my joint and got up.

"Nice talking to you. And thanks for the weed!"

"Good luck, naked lady!" my dealer friend yelled at me as I had moved on. I still carried my sandals in my hands. Stilettos made no sense on Christiania's many different and uneven surfaces.

Christoffer accompanied me out of Christiania before he started taking pictures again. We walked along a cobbled road at a part of Copenhagen Harbour to a narrow stretch of sandy beach where people from Christiania were skinny-dipping and sunbathing. My lack of clothes was absolutely normal here. I made a quick decision to swim across the Copenhagen Harbour which is so famous for its clean water. That way I could avoid some of the crowded streets of the inner city.

"You know what, Christoffer? I'm leaving you here. Will you make sure that my sandals, my watch and my earrings are at Ekstra Bladet at five?"

"Sure!" he shrugged and photographed me as I put down my last remaining possessions at his feet.

Then I walked into the water which very conveniently gave me a chance to pee without being photographed doing it and swam along the canals toward the inner harbour. I wondered where I would meet the next photographer from Ekstra Bladet. I swam between Christiania's old army barracks and the old naval area on the other side of the water with its expensive condos. Out here I was the only swimmer, but I was surrounded by stand-up paddlers, kayaks and slow electrical rental boats.

I had been swimming for some minutes. I started to feel tired and realized that maybe smoking weed had made me overestimate my swimming capacity and underestimate the distance I'd have to swim to get across the harbour. Maybe swimming was a bad decision after all?

Just at that moment I was overtaken by four young guys about my age in one of the rental boats.

"You want a lift?" one of them, an extremely handsome black guy, asked.

"You going across the harbour?" I inquired from the water.

"We'll go anywhere you like. Where are you going?"

"City Hall Square."

"We can't take you all the way. But we'll get you as close as possible."

The black guy helped me on board the small boat where he and his friends were sharing a pack of 24 cans of Carlsberg.

"I'm Pierre," he introduced himself. "And this is Anders, Simon and Søren."

"Hi, I'm Emma."

I shook hands with all four of them.

"Nice to meet you guys!"

"We're just glad to help," Pierre smiled at me.

"Fancy a beer?" Anders asked and opened a can for me. I took it and realized that smoking that joint had make me kind of thirsty. I drank and wiped away foam from my lips.

Then I noticed a speedboat approaching from the inner harbour basin with a photographer with a long lens and a guy with a large video camera. Ekstra Bladet was back in business.

"You want a towel?" Pierre asked.

"No thanks! I'm not supposed to be covered at any time. I need to be visible for the men with the cameras on that boat over there. And for the general public. But I would like one of your cigarettes. I seem to have left mine at home."

They all smiled, and Anders handed me his pack of King's Blue cigarettes and his lighter:

"Help yourself!"

"Thanks!"

I took one from the pack, lit it and inhaled deeply.

In the meantime, the speedboat had turned around and was going alongside us at low speed. I smiled, waved at the cameras with my cigarette and enjoyed another gulp of the ice-cold beer. We entered the inner harbour and passed under the Inner Harbour Bridge where pedestrians and cyclists were waving.

"So, who are the men in that other boat?" Pierre asked.

"Oh... They're from Ekstra Bladet. And Ekstra Bladet Television apparently," I explained. "It's kind of a game. It's called Naked Through the City. And I can make a lot of money if I can make it to the office of their editor-in-chief by five o'clock."

"Sounds exciting!" Anders remarked.

"Oh, it is. How much time do I have left by the way? I left my watch somewhere," I said and took another drag from my cigarette.

"Yes. You're not really carrying a lot of stuff around," Pierre said. "You have another 38 minutes to get to City Hall Square. It's 16:22."

The inner harbour was filled with boats of all sorts and sizes and people were swimming inside and outside the official bathing areas.

"I guess I'm in a bit of a hurry then. Are we going at maximum speed?" I asked and exhaled a plume of smoke before emptying my beer can.

"I'm afraid this is the best we can do," Pierre informed me. "These rental boats are a really slow. Which is fine. Considering that most people use them to go around the harbour getting drunk."

"Like we do," Anders added. "Speaking of which: Would you like another?"

He had opened the next can of Carlsberg before I could answer him.

I drank. While we passed under the old Knippelsbro Bridge, where even larger crowds of people were waving and shouting, the four guys told me that they were all political science students at university, celebrating exams that they put behind them earlier that day.

I wished I had time for a long boat ride with Pierre who was definitely the hottest of the four.

"So is your family from Africa?" I asked him.

"I was born and raised in Denmark. But my parents came from Côte d'Ivoire. That's why I have this funny French name."

"Pierre is not funny. It's exotic. I think it's nice," I said and inhaled the last mouthful of smoke from my cigarette before I tossed it into the water.

The boat was going at an alarmingly slow speed down the inner harbour as the minutes ticked away. Pierre and the others took countless pictures of each other and their naked passenger. The Ekstra Bladet boat with the two cameras busily at work was close by. In the meantime, a cluster of people had assembled at the right-hand side of the harbour. They seemed to follow us along the quay. I waved at them and they cheered.

The four guys had decided to take me all the way to the Blox Centre for Architecture, which was at the end of Vester Voldgade, the street leading directly to City Hall Square.

In the meantime the crowd on the quay had grown and seemed determined to follow our slow boat.

Around 20 meters from Blox the electric engine stopped unexpectedly.

"Fuck!" Anders remarked.

They looked at each other. Clearly without a clue about what to do.

"Sorry, boys! It was so nice of you. But I have a deadline. I'm afraid I've got to leave you."

I emptied my second Carlsberg and hugged Anders, Simon and Søren before turning to Pierre.

"Does anyone have a pen?" I asked.

Simon quickly produced one from his pocket.

I took Pierre's hand and wrote my eight-digit mobile phone number inside the bright palm of his hand.

"Call me if you like," I said. "But don't do it before five. I don't have the phone on me right now."

I smiled, put the pen into his hand and closed it. Then I kissed him on the mouth, using my tongue.

His three friends were cheering like the crowd on the quay. Pierre just smiled.

I jumped into the water, head-first, and started swimming toward the crowd, who were cheering and clapping still louder as I neared them.

I reached the tall, orange ladder and climbed it. The first thing I saw when I lifted my head above the edge of the quay, was a uniformed police officer, making his way towards me.

For a second, I considered jumping back into the water. Had they come for me because of my ticketless metro ride? Or simply because of my general indecent behaviour for the past hour? Soon, however, I realized that it made no sense to try and outswim the police. I climbed and stood before a smiling, young policeman in a short-sleeved uniform shirt.

"You must be Emma!" he said.

"Yes. I am. And I know you're probably going to arrest me. But could we talk some time after five? I'm in a real hurry now. And I obviously don't have an ID on me. But I promise I will come back to you and clear things up. And I will pay all due fines and be really cooperative if you can please, please wait half an hour before you arrest me. How do you know my name by the way?" I blurted out.

"Relax, Emma!" the friendly officer laughed at me and continued:

"Nobody wants to arrest you. This is a free country. After all, Denmark was the first country to legalize porn."

"This is not porn!" I protested.

"No. Of course not. You're just a Danish citizen enjoying the freedom we have to dress as we please, right?" he said with a broad smile and continued:

"We know your name, because Ekstra Bladet has been live-streaming from the Naked Through the City event for the last 30 minutes on their website and on social media," he said and pointed to a large video camera to my left with a red Ekstra Bladet logo on it. Some of the people around us held up their smartphones so I could see myself talking to the police.

"Okay?!" I said, taking it all in.

"A lot of people know your name now, Emma. You'd better get used to that. I'm Allan, by the way. And we're here to escort you to City Hall Square and make sure you get there on time."

I was overwhelmed, hugged Allan firmly and kissed him on the cheek so his uniform got wet from the harbour water. He let me do it and laughed just like the crowd around us.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"You have another 14 minutes before your deadline. As I said, we'll escort you and help you get there on time."

"Yes. But I can't get into your patrol car. That would be against the rules."

"We know the rules. My colleague Finn here, who would also very much like to say hello to you, and I will drive ahead of you, flashing the blue lights and you just walk, or maybe better run, behind us."

A second officer, a guy in his forties, appeared behind Allan.

"Hello, Finn. Nice to meet you!" I said and gave Finn the same wet hug-and-kiss that I'd just given Allan. The crowd cheered.

A slightly overweight guy in his thirties next to the cameraman stepped forward:

"Jonas Jørgensen, Ekstra Bladet. Do you have time for a short interview, Emma? You're on Ekstra Bladet's livestream."

"Do I?" I asked Allan.

"I wouldn't count on it. You're in a hurry now."

"Sorry. I gotta run!" I said to Jonas Jørgensen and followed Allan and Finn through the enthusiastic crowd to their patrol car that was parked on the sidewalk with the blue lights flashing on top.

Soon we were moving down Vester Voldgade -- for the last triumphant kilometre to City Hall Square and the offices of Ekstra Bladet. A lot of people were walking with me behind the police car while others were cheering from the sidewalks.

As we got closer, I started running and continuously increased my speed. Finn, who was at the wheel, sped up accordingly, and so did the cameraman and still photographer who where passengers on each their motorbike right next to me.

For the last 200 meters I ran as fast as I could with my large, unrestrained boobs bouncing wildly up and down.

I arrived at the entrance, waved a quick goodbye to my police escort, entered through the revolving door and was met by a young woman.

"You must be Emma!" she said.

"How did you guess!" I said, totally out of breath after the run.

"I'm Annika. I'm Poul's assistant. I'll take you upstairs to his office. Right this way! Being dressed like that you won't have to spend a long time clearing our security."

"What time is it?" I asked as we waited for the elevator.

"It's 4:56. It seems you made it," Annika said and pointed to a large digital clock on the wall.

Upstairs, Annika left me at the chief editor's office and I entered through the open door. I met Poul, the editor I had been facetiming with from the beach, and a crowd of sweaty middle-aged men who were clapping their hands. The cameraman and the photographer entered behind me and soon got around me to get themselves and all the their viewers a full-frontal view of my nudity.

Poul, the editor-in-chief, was looking at his wristwatch:

"I'm sorry to say that Ekstra Bladet has just lost a bet. You made it, Emma! Congratulations!"

He leant into me and hugged me, placing a wet kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you!" I said as he let go of me after a while.

"Would you do the honours and open this bottle?" Poul asked.

He handed me a heavy, 3-liter magnum bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne. The foil and wire around the cork had been removed, so I just needed to pop the cork, which I did with a loud bang and champagne bubbling and spraying all over my face, tits and the floor. Somebody must have been shaking the bottle for that effect. The people around me clapped and waved their little red and white Danish flags and some guy took over the gigantic bottle and started pouring champagne into and beside the tall glasses that were arranged on the table.

Poul handed me a large bouquet of red roses and ten 1000 kroner bills. He leant forward and whispered into my ear:

"This is just for the cameras. You'll get the other 40.000 later."

I nodded with relief.

Poul then made a lengthy speech about the role of Ekstra Bladet as a provocative end rebellious paper with a very special role as the great taboo-breaker in Danish media and blah blah blah.

Afterwards I made a short acceptance speech where I thanked Ekstra Bladet for giving me the opportunity and sent my warm thanks to the wonderful people who had helped me on the way.

"And now I'd really like to put my clothes back on. And I'd like the rest of my stuff back. Because I really need a cigarette now."

"Well, Emma. Christoffer, the photographer, brought us your sandals, your earrings and your watch. So you can start with that. I think the other photographer, Jacob, has the bag with your clothes and your cigarettes. I don't know where he is now. Can somebody please find out for me?"

A young man immediately left the room.

"And normally this is a non-smoking office. But since it's you, Emma. Does anybody have a cigarette for Emma?"

He looked around and soon a number of cigarette packs were handed toward me. Most people in the room seemed to be smokers who had to suppress their urge at the office. I had a choice of several brands, picked a Red Prince cigarette and had it lit by a friendly man. Then I put on earrings, watch and heels and watched Ekstra Bladets photo editor as he introduced a slideshow of my trip from Amager Beach, via Christiania and the Copenhagen Harbour to City Hall Square. It would premiere on Ekstra Bladets website within a few minutes. I was on my fourth or fifth glass of Veuve Clicquot by then and had, frankly, given up counting.

As the slideshow had been shown once, people seemed to drift out of the office and back to their workstations. The journalist I had turned down by the harbour came back to me:

"Remember me? Jonas Jørgensen. I just wanted to congratulate you!" he said and hugged me intensely, smelling of old sweat.

"Thank you!" I said, as he finally let go.

"I think you owe me an interview, Emma!"

"So... what do you want to know?"

"What's it like to be naked in the city?"

"Oh, on a hot day like this it's very comfortable. You should try it, Jonas. You look a bit overheated yourself."

"So... you haven't had any unpleasant experiences?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like men touching you?"

"Well... one or two in the metro. It can get crowded during rush-hour. But then I decided to walk and swim the rest of the way. And most people have been very friendly. In particular I'd like to thank Pierre and his friends who took me along for a boat ride across the harbour."

I bummed another cigarette from Jonas Jørgensen and lit it. His interview seemed to never end, and I got increasingly irritated by his silly questions. I wanted my money and my clothes. And somehow, I wanted my old identity as a completely unknown anthropology student back. Even though that was probably too much to ask.