We did interviews with the Norwegian press yesterday that went well and allowed our fans to see another side of us. Rory’s formidable guitar skills impressed the journalists, as did Orville’s. Kim dazzled them with his powerful voice and knowledge of the oldies. Enrico’s affable personality charmed the vultures, while Glen’s guitar chops wowed them. Tom blew some wicked harp and told funny stories about his years on the road. Thomas, Ben, and Gustavo also got some of the spotlight as they described their duties and what it’s like to work for the band.
The morning news programs all featured the interviews from yesterday and people were calling in to comment about how genial and professional we are. They also commented about how much time we spent with the reporters, which allowed them to get an in-depth profile of the band, but what impressed the callers the most was how we treated our shows in Norway like they were just as important as the ones in the bigger countries, which made me happy.
After breakfast, Fillip asked if I wanted to see something. I asked him what it was. “It would be better if I showed you,” he replied. “Okay, I like a surprise.” “The whole band should see it.” “Okay, let’s roust them out of bed.” “I don’t want them pissed at me,” the young man replied. “Don’t worry about it, I do it all the time.”
We got the crew assembled in the lobby. Rory scowled and asked why his sleep was disturbed. “I want you to see something,” I informed him. “What?” “You’ll see.” “Damn, I could be sleeping.”
This better be good.
We drove to Ullevaal Stadium and pulled into the parking lot. I asked Fillip was going on and he pointed at a giant clothe mural hanging from the stadium. I gave it look, and as we got closer, I could see that it was of the band with all of us playing our instruments. It was done with great detail, and the caption read: “Welcome to Norway, Scragg Man and his Amazing Band!” The crew and I studied the mural and them smiled. “That’s mighty nice,” I remarked. “Wow, who did that,” Rory asked. “They don’t know, someone gave it to the stadium workers who decided to hang it. I thought you guys would like to see it.” “I’m glad we did, it’s incredible.”
I then noticed that there was a mass of people walking toward the mural.
The folks were snapping pics of the work, which I found charming. I looked at the security guys, and they sprung into action. I stepped out of the bus and took a picture of the mural. The crowd then noticed me, and they turned their cameras on me. “This is humbling,” I declared, pointing to the painting. The people cheered, and I posed for pics. The rest of the band joined me, and we thanked the folks for their Norwegian hospitality. We chatted with the people, and we took a group photo.
The cops then showed up.
The policemen were friendly and pointed to a food truck driving up behind them. The driver then got out and asked us what we wanted. We weren’t hungry, but we couldn’t turn him down, so we all got a meatball sandwich on the house from Stig, a friendly middle-aged man with a warm smile. “I hate to put you out,” I told him. “My pleasure, Sir, We love the Scragg Man in Norway,” he replied.
We ate our sandwiches and chatted with the people, who took pics and texted about how cool we are. I told them that we’re mighty thankful for the reception here and can’t wait to play our shows. The people cheered and thanked us for making Norway more than just a stop.
Its times like these that make me realize how lucky I am and how grateful I need to be.
I sure love Norway.
Scragg Man 
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