I spent my last day in Stockholm on a mission. My assignment was to quietly locate and photograph Benny Andersson, the owner of the hotel I was staying at in Stockholm, the Rival, and a former member of the '70s pop group ABBA. While, admittedly, I wouldn't know Benny if he fell out of one of the Eucalyptus Trees at 7th and Montana and started belting out tunes, THE NAME OF THE GAME as far as I was concerned was to get a candid photo of him for my blog, preferably doing Something Nutty. I began my quest at the Front Desk. "Tell me," I said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Does Benny ever hang around the hotel?" "Oh yes," came the reply from the Front Desk Manager, "He stops by occasionally. He loves the bread from our bakery." I quickly ran upstairs to the restaurant. "I hear Benny loves your bread," I said to one of the waiters, "Does he ever eat here?" "Yes, indeed," said the waiter, "That's his table over there in the corner." I grabbed a strategically placed table nearby, ordered dinner and bided my time. No luck. I knew if I hoped to get a candid shot of Benny, I'd have to TAKE A CHANCE on a more desperate approach. I grabbed a basket of bread from the bakery, sat in the lobby bar and began whistling ABBA tunes until I thought the bartender would send out an S.O.S. "This is the life," I said loudly, "Delicious bread, great music and a top-notch hotel ... I tell you, that Benny Andersson is a genius. A pure genius." Still, nothing. MAMMA MIA! I made a fool of myself and all to no avail. Mark my words, Benny Andersson, one day I'll get a candid photo of you doing Something Nutty for my blog if it's the last thing I DO (I DO, I DO, I DO, I DO, I DO) ...!