My name is Persson

Tonight, my wife and I had dinner at a sweet Italian restaurant in Uppsala, after an energetic show by Jonas Gardell, a Swedish comedian (and author and entertainer).

In the table next to us, there was a group of young girls getting ready for Friday night, giggling and chatting as only young girls can. All of a sudden, I saw a man lean against the window, trying to talk to the girls.

The girls laughed – except one who played with her mobile phone and wished she were somewhere else – which encouraged the man to talk to them even more. Fifteen second later, he walked into the restaurant and sat down between two of the girls.

He was wearing a foolish smile as only drunk men can as he turned to one of the girls, offered his hand, and said:

“Persson”.

My wife and I laughed. We both laughed at the idea of somebody introducing himself with his last name.

I said, “Persson … colonel Persson,” jokingly.

My wife thought he was a traveling knife salesman on tour in Uppsala.

Who else would do something like that?

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