So far, if I were to write a “36 Hours in Copenhagen” for The New York Times, it would consist of the following: See people do heroin while en route to hostel. Eat all-you-can-eat sushi with three strangers. Drink
a little too much a lot too much at The Drunken Flamingo. Go to McDonalds at 4 a.m. and accidentally offer french fries to a prostitute.