Both my husband and I decided that it would be best to visit the men's room before sojourning on to the hotel. Fortunately one was located just a few feet from us. Unfortunately, from what we could ascertain from the Swedish speaking maintenance crew, a plumbing disaster had occurred closing the men's side of the restroom. My husband went off on a search, fruitless as it turned out, for another. In extreme desperation and following the leads of several others we went into the side marked "Damen". In a somewhat surreal manner I witnessed as I waited with the luggage while my husband took his turn, a number of men entering and exiting the women's restroom, yet not a single woman. Perhaps there is as deep meaning in this regarding matters of social structure and its effects on bladder control but I have no idea what that meaning could be.
Our luck began to turn as we made our way to the information desk to find out how to get to our hotel. There a lovely young woman not only gave us directions but also advised us on which public transit pass would serve us best, sold the passes to us and provided us with maps with routes highlighted and handwritten notes to help guide us.
Thanking her profusely after our airport ordeals we stepped into the sunshine and began the next step of our adventure,