Spyken, a local high school (called gymnasiet) had its graduation today. But Swedish high school graduation is nothing like American High school gradation. Apparently, when you graduate from high school in Sweden, not only do you get a white captian-esque hat (called a studentmössa) to sport, but you get to run around your town of residence for the rest of the day blowing whistles and airhorns. After that, you get to take several laps around town while dancing to loud music, hoisting homemade congratulatory signs, and drinking champange, all from the open-air bed of a semi-truck, as the citizens of the town smile and wave and even sometimes high-five you as you pass by. It’s like a parade with the theme of “hormones and joy.” It’s fantastic and hilarious and fantastically hilarious. And oh so Swedish.

I had been seeing the trucks all day, and had waved at and high-fived my fair share of giddy students. But the best moment came as our pack of cyclists rode out of town this afternoon. We passed one of the several of the teenager-filled trucks, and a girl in the back of it, amongst the revelers, popped a fresh bottle of bubbly and sprayed it out over us as we rolled by.

And in that moment, I realized that being sprayed with champange by a possibly inebriated 18-year old Swede from the bed of a Scania semi-truck is probably the closest I’d ever get to that victory-lap-tour-de-france-sprayed-by-French-alcohol-while-riding feeling.

God. What a feeling.


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