Well ok, maybe "happily" is not the right word. "Grouchily" that might be the word. Or "begrudgingly".
People kept asking me things in Russian and since the only Russian I know involves Boris and Natasha going to the opera and a smattering of ways to tell someone their mother fucks pigs, I was a little stuck for conversation.
The guy directly in front of me in line was hugely tall, wearing a fur hat and smoking a cigarette. From every orifice! He was probably named "Boris" or "Vladimir" and worked in a chemical plant. He was like the guy you'd draw in a cartoon to represent a stereotypical Russian, minus a great big sickle on his hat. If he had a bottle of vodka in his inside pocket it would be spot on. In fact, I'm pretty sure he did. I think it's illegal not to for Russians or something.
The guy behind me was excitable and elderly - a formidable combination in any language. He was muttering in Russian at the speed of light. I have no idea what he was on about. He might have been drunk off his ass or high for all I know. "I like fairies! You are a doughnut! I am an multidextrous octopus!" Who the hell knows? I'm pretty sure at one point he said the word "womanator" which was slightly alarming, but I could be mistaken. Maybe he just doesn't like the ladies? Either way, I steered well clear of that guy. Womanator indeed.
The officials inside, when I eventually got past the door, were surly as all hell. Maybe they all had partaken in a touch too much Stoli last night? The woman who processed my claim was like a Russian fembot with no facial muscles. She looked like she ate Americans for dinner with a side order of spite. Phew! Lucky I'm European, huh!
I hate to bring everything back to pies, but this is my breakdown of Russians in a nutshell. Or a pie, to be more exact.
You can totally quote me on that in any official capacity you please.
