MOCKBA once again

Sitting next to me on Lufthansa Flight 1283 to Moscow was Igor, the ex-pilot from Rostov-on-Don, currently working as a dealer on the Alaskan route of Princess Cruises and Arnold, the owner of five matress-making factories in Russia and China and, though from Joplin MO, could speak six languages. Lufthansa's policy of free alcoholic drinks to all and one tasty vegan breakfast for me qualifies it for Greatest. Airline. Evar. Plus the bright yellow pillbox hats on the flight attendants totally rule.

Having my name on the little placard as I walked up totally ruled and soon I was taxi-deep in the madness that is Moscow. As I have said before, the test of truly knowing a language is whether you can read it at over 80 mph and, I must say, I was dealing with it pretty well. Of course Alexei insisted on a windows-down policy so I arrived at the soviet-plush Hotel Metropole 45 minutes later looking a little more windswept and red-eyed than normal. My hotel is nestled between the world-famous Bolshoi Theatre and Red Square so I had to knock down a couple of Chinese tourists just to get to the door. The foto at left, btw, was snapped with my brand new black Motorola Razr, which I purchased for cheap -- groovy Cyrillic keypad and ice-queen salesperson attitude provided for free.

I don't know why Moscow feels so familiar to me. It's not like I know where everything really is but perhaps it's because I've bribed more than my share of policemen and stumbled around in the dead of night post-roofie. I can read all the signs, mostly, and I know how to conduct myself in a stare-down. I stay here for two days of business before being sent to Syktyvkar in the Komi region.