I don't know about topping it but in 2001 a friend and were in Copenhagen on our way North. We started our day, innocently enough, dropping off some laundry that was promised to be finished before closing (5:00 pm) so that we could catch the early train out of town.

We decided to hit Pusher Street and ate a handful of hot dogs and give ourselves the worst case of cotton mouth in history. That basically required that we go find a bar somewhere that served Guinness and Tequila, the mainstay of our diet at the time. We found a bar on a real touristy pier, families and kids walking around looking at boats tied up and shopping in the boutiques. But also a bar that suited us. We proceed to start drinking and meet another guy claiming to have more alcohol, for free, on his beautiful 33' nordic type sailboat. So we decided to be cheap and go listen to old Husker Du cassettes for the free booze and proceeded to get all kinds of drunk. A couple or few hours of this and the Captain and I are taking turns puking off the aft deck while the tourists and their children pointed at us and spoke in some jibberish I couldn't understand. Feeling like I was forgetting something I check my watch and see that it's 4:55 and we are on the opposite side of town from our laundry, so we just up and bolt, before the captain can shanghai us, leaving him sitting there to forever question the lyrics we were translating to him on his favorite Husker Du tape.

We're running across town, now the cottonmouths so bad, my gums are bleeding and we realize there's no way we're gonna get our clothes on time so my buddy decides it may speed us or at least help to start a long string of loud obscenities.

We arrive at the laundry at 5:20, doors locked, our clothes clean and stacked nice on the counter behind the register. Gordy is now walking in circles in the middle of the street like he has mad cow disease and is getting more colorful and adding more gain to the obscenities and begiining to loose his hot daogs finally, in the most violent and public matter. Some people are gathering to look as Gordy goes on with his episode. I take a good look at the lock and decide that I can break in without hurting anything. So I grab the old trusty driver's license, as drunk as I can be and still remember anything, and pop the lock on the laundry. "Gordy, I'm in!!!" WE bum rush and find our sh*t and run like hell before any bystanders can grab us.

Needless to say, we went straight to the hotel, got what was left and headed for Grand Central, never looking back and not letting out our sigh of relief until we were on a ferry headed for Oslo. Whew, missed another international incident, would've been hard to explain to my family why I needed someone to bail me out of a Copenhagen jail. We tread a little lighter after that.