Well, as it turns out, there's no possible way in the infinite reaches of this universe I could have been more wrong.
Let me over-explain by supplying way too much exposition:
Last night at the folkehojskole we had what's called a Culture Night, which happens (as far as I can ascertain) every other weekend. A folkehojskole, essentially pronounced "folk high school" but with no consonants or discernible sounds that can be created with a human pharynx, is a post-grade school educational institution that students live at full time, learning because they want to be there. That is to say, there are no grades, no exams, and everyone can drink legally.
My particular folkehojskole, the Den Internationale, stands out among traditional hojskoles because it houses 50 students from over 30 countries, rather than all Danes. 12 Americans and I are staying on the hojskole's campus but attending classes at a different institution in the city, the Danish Institute for Study Abroad (DIS). Yes, I am aware that the Danes are awful at acronyms. It's a widely accepted cultural shortcoming, and also accounts for most of their insane tax rates.
Culture Night is a night where, in addition to spreading knowledge of any of the few dozen cultures represented here, groups of students get to put on hilarious plays and the kitchen staff makes free mixed drinks for us. Tonight, being the first weekend of the semester, the performance was done by the staff here at the hojskole. Not only was it hilarious, and every bit as brazen as other Danish comedy I've mentioned before, it was exceptionally well done and extensive.
But here's where the real magic happened:
After the performance, we went into the large common room to have drinks and socialize. Naturally, I topped of my whiskey flask and sat down with the guitar. One detail that I had foolishly omitted in my blag about Thursday night, and largely from my own brain, was that the man playing songs at the bar was the son of a teacher here at the hojskole. The Culture Nights are kind of a big deal here, so not surprisingly this man was here with his father. He strolled into the party and, lazer-like, locked onto me and the guitar. He said he remembered me and the harmonies I attempted to shout at his songs, and apparently I told him that night that I had a sweet second voice part to I'm Yours by Jason Mraz (THANK YOU ROSE). We sang that, and he happened to also know and frequently perform California Dreamin, to which I also know the second/third/fourth parts (NO SERIOUSLY YOU'RE A GENIUS). Turns out I don't suck at harmonies and he's been looking for a second voice for his musical acts and recordings.
Next thing you know, he's got my email address and I'm going to be performing with him February 11th. No fucking joke! I might even get a tambourine part! He likes great music too, including some sweet Danish Simon & Garfunkel tribute bands.
Now I don't expect to go platinum right away, it might take a while to penetrate the Swedish market, but fucking seriously I can't think of a cooler thing to have happen right now. I could run around and meet random Danes, sure, but this is over 9000 times more legit -- instead of just going to bars, I'll be performing in them. Perhaps bi-monthly!