Expat Jon takes on the world (well... Sweden)

Eating on public transportation makes me feel guilty somehow.  I don't know what it is.  It's my food. There's no rule against it.  Something about it makes me feel rude or something.  Once I was taking a very short flight in North Carolina.  The plane was a very small plane that barely had room in the cabin for carry-on luggage.  I firmly believe that there is a rule in the universe that mandates that I sit next to an obese person in a situation like this.  I  looked at my ticket... F4... F4.  I scanned the plane and saw a woman in one and a half seats.  I knew the half was F4.  This was a short layover.  I had hurriedly stopped by Burger King on my way to my gate.  I didn't have time to eat it, but whatever, I'd eat on the flight. I counted the rows as I approached the half seat.  I hoped there was a number between 3 and 4 that I hadn't ever learned about.  There wasn't.  I was in the half seat next to the obese woman.  She had a box of Cinnabon cinnamo

It had been a while since I got on stage and told jokes.  You get a rush when it goes well.  There is a level of happiness after a good set that's hard to explain besides saying it's like taking a bunch of ecstasy without the worry of going to jail or dying.  After my first set  I was hooked.  I tried to book myself as much as possible.  I needed to get on stage and get better.  For two months I went up at least once a week (except one week when Swedie told me I had to keep my ass at home).  I was starting to feel like a comedian.  Then the summer came.  This summer has been bad (ask any Swede) in regards to the weather, but my first summer as a comedian was a tough one.  Most of the comedy clubs (and everything except bars) shut down in the summer here.  That means every comedian in Stockholm is trying to get on one or two stages.  That also means no one cares about Jonathan Rollins getting some time.  Who is Jonathan Rollins? Some people in the Stockholm comedy scene had be