X and I've visited Flen! And while there, we suddenly decided to go party at Harry's in Katrineholm, which - even though it's bigger than Flen - is a small city in the middle of the country-side.

We started out by sitting in a park with one of X's cousins and his girlfriend, and happened to meet two of their friends who were already sitting there. X called one of her oldest friends, and we quickly met up with her and her boyfriend. It was fun to see them as it was a long time since. We all sat there, everybody feeling (varying degrees of) un-fresh from having spent most of the evening at X's grandmother's place to celebrate her turning 70 years old. I managed to spray some perfume on myself before heading out, but that just felt like trying to cover up something.

While sitting in the park, more friends of X's cousin collated; we offered them some wine that we'd brought from the party before, to which one of said friends replied: "Don't we seem wasted enough already?" She was funny and not that wasted, but made me feel quite sober in comparison. Her friend, a quite small girl, was pretty much wasted already.

There was a place nearby that served up some karaoke hilarities, especially with one woman taking the stage all by herself, seemingly refusing to let go of the mic and slaughtering every song in and out of her range. Just when you thought you'd learned her technique enough to filter it away, she somehow gained new levels.

We then strolled downtown in Katrineholm to meet up with another of their friends, and en route suddenly heard and saw a skinhead kicking a billboard, shouting xenophobic curses aimed at a group of boys. The skinhead and another of his cohorts walked towards the group looking like caricatures of bulls. We went another way.

Then, Harry's.

We kind of knew what we were getting ourselves into, but really not. Entering Harry's was like re-living a snippet of my 17th year on this planet, when everybody I knew started going out, all to quite shitty places, because we wanted to get in (which I otherwise wouldn't, as I wasn't 18 years old) and also because we all didn't have that much money.

At Harry's, though, people were of differing ages - I'd say 25 years was the average age - and were pouring it down. Having ordered a gin and tonic from a confused bartender, we managed to get a table which was frequented by some really stressed-out staff; my god! They went in like coyotes hopped up on speed, whipping out their arms and hands, removing finished and not-finished drinks, receipts and whatever, lightning-speed, sweating profusely.

By now X and I were both glancing around at the audience. First, a few words on the ambience though; the decor was a classic dark-brown beer hall with super-sized stuff on the walls. For instance, a huge-sized soccer ball that looked like it'd been half kicked into a wall. A massive baseball bat next to it, slightly askew, and so on. Inflatable plastic Corona-bottles here and there. Dark-brown tables strewn across the hall.

Next to the main hall were two dance-floors, where the action went on. This really jolted me, bringing back memories from Big Racks, a place we visited while in Texas; in Harry's, girls were dancing in the middle of the floor with men caking the sides of the walls, eyeing the girls while slowly sipping their beers. It's like the most scary pre-civilisation rite imaginable. It felt like the guys were just eyeing which one to pick while getting increasingly drunk and low-brow as the girls moved about. Of course, the dance floor is where the fun was.

X, her cousin's girlfriend and some of her friends and myself all slammed the dance floor and I was probably the only guy there for a while. We danced to the likes of Robyn and "Alejandro", and tried to enter the new dance floor, but weren't allowed by a guard that seemingly popped up from nowhere, informing us that no beverages were allowed into the new dance floor! Us cretins backed up and continued dancing in the old premises. The DJ mixed a few new songs that sounded like they came from the mid-90s with a bunch of songs that were from the mid-90s, e.g. the Nightcrawlers' "Push The Feelin' On". Still, we had fun while trying to avoid people who were out there to fight. One girl bumped into X and gave her a super-hostile look, and I swear she wanted to fight! We just danced on and having looked for a fight for just too long, the girl left.

Outside, Harry's were selling hot-dogs and people crowded, smoked, drank. I noticed how much the place felt like a singles bar, without any saving graces whatsoever. I mean, I had fun with X but I'd never, ever go there by myself or without irony.

I also noted a guy with a weird t-shirt with the classic pic of Johnny Cash giving the finger on the front. On the back, it read:

Fuck you son! ((In Swedish, it read: "Fuck you grabben!".)) "Johnny Cash"

I just had to photograph it. X gave my confidence a boost and off I went. The guy was talking to his friend, and I interrupted them and said I was a big fan of Johnny Cash, told him I loved the picture of his t-shirt and asked if I could take a picture of the back. He and his friend both gawked at me as though I'd told them to tattoo a picture of me on their foreheads.

I: Would that be OK? Guy 1 (with the t-shirt): ...how, how did you know? Guy 2: that's scary! I: Well, I saw the picture on the front and I just want to take a picture of the back. Would that be alright? G1: ...but, how did you know? I: Well, the quote's just so good, I have to take a picture of it! G2: ...oh, oh, OH!

Something was starting to happen. I had no idea what Guy 2 was oh-ing about.

G1: How did you know I had the picture on my back? I: Eh, no, I don't want to take a picture of your front, just a picture of the text on the back! G2: I get it! I get it! He just wants a picture of the back of your t-shirt! I: ...exactly! G1: ...aaaaAAAH! Now I understand!

I still didn't understand anything.

G1: I thought you wanted to take a picture of this!

He then turned around, showed me his back and yanked up his t-shirt. I gawked. He had tattooed said picture of Johnny Cash all over his back.

G1: I was thinking "how the hell does this guy know I had Cash tattooed on my back?"

There you go!

I re-joined X and we caught up with her cousin; his girlfriend partied on but the we took the late-night bus with him back to Flen, where we stayed at X's mom's house. However, the night hadn't ended quite just yet...

We sat quite far back in the bus, but at the very back two idiots were parched. Idiots? Yes, they were idiots. The busdriver was black, and while one of the idiots dropped lines like "Busdriver from Eritrea...any other job than busdriver? Nuh" his idiot companion laughed at the end like the shittiest laugh-track you'd ever heard. "Black skin's the worst skin there ever was. Yup" and on and on. Of course, they'd both paid the driver upon entering the bus, and they'd not dared say anything to his face. Neither did the talking idiot speak his idiot mind loud enough for the driver to hear him. Only we did, fuming.

As the idiots exited the bus, the verbal one put his hands on my and X's cousin's heads; I gave him a little push but X's cousin punched the guy's back with all of his might. The guy didn't seem to notice in the least. The idiots exited and X's cousin cursed them and regretted not having hunted them down and beat them into a pulp.

As we exited the bus we discovered a young girl had used the trashcan in the bus to dispose of her innards, and continued to do so outdoors. That was kind of the crash cymbal to end the song that was visiting Harry's.

It was actually more fun that I'm probably letting on, but I won't be visiting again, or going near anything like that in a while (I hope); like I wrote, going there with X, swinging about the dance floor was fun with her and friends, but I couldn't really let my hair down. It was too much like watching one big mating ritual go down on the Discovery channel.

Cheers to you, Harry's. May your flag fly and your guests be warned!