And He Didn't Even Say, "Goddag..."

 As I waited for my tank to fill, I glanced over at the Dodge parked in front of the store. That's when I noticed the license plate with the word "ODENSE" on it. 

Not many people know what that word means.

There's a city on the Danish island of Fyn called Odense. It's most famous for it being the birthplace of Hans Christian Andersen, beloved author and spinner of yarns. I lived in that town for four months back in the mid 1980s. It's a beautiful city with incredibly nice people (as long as you're not talking religion...). 

On the day I filled my tank and saw the car, I happened to be wearing my Dannebrog, or Danish Flag t-shirt. That, and the fact I have a DK sticker on my car--I thought would allow the owner of the car with the license plate of Denmark's third-largest city, would see me, the shirt, the sticker, and if not say "hi," at least acknowledge another lover of the country.

I was Dansk-decked out for just such and occasion.

As the gasoline continued to flow into Donk, the Subaru, I saw the owner of the silver car emerge from the store. I tried catching his attention in as non-a-creepy-way as possible. He looked over as he opened the door, then...

He climbed inside and drove away.

No big deal, really.

Still, it would have been fun to at least say, "Goddag," or give the ol' lifted chin greeting, signifying we both understood something communicated non-verbally. Heck, for all I know, the car might belong to his dad, or mom, or sister, or someone else who would understand the significance of all that Danish Dynamite emanating from across the parking lot. The driver might not know much about Denmark at all.

Yeah...I think I'll go with that.