Last week Johnny Zombie sent me to Russia. Three of his company’s clients were not paying this debts. The internet mogul from Palm Beach thought my visit would show that he was not forgetting or forgiving their obligations. $500/day plus expenses. I could use the money, but when I mentioned to trip to my cousin Ty Spaulding, he expressed his concern.
“Russia’s not Iowa.” This was in reference to my recent sojourn to the American heartland. Cornfields are not dangerous, unless if owned by Monsanto, however Hollywood has well-documented the threat of Russian gangsters.
“I know that.” I had been stuck in Moscow airport in 1994. My drinking 2 bottles on vodka with a Norwegian couple on the 8 hours lay-over was a beautiful near-death experience.
“Be careful. You have kids.”
I heeded Ty’s warning and survived the three meetings without a scratch.
I didn’t get drunk either.
On my last day I played the tourist in Moscow.
Nearing the Kremlin a man passed me. A wallet dropped from his back pocket. It was secured by plastic wrap.
“I bent over to pick it up. Various currencies were visible. I alerted the man to this loss with a shout and handed back the money clip. He thanked me and a shabbily dressed passer-by said, “Good man.”
The two men proceeded on their way until we were accosted by a third man. He authoritatively flashed a badge and demanded our papers.
I showed him mine and he said, “Where is second packet?”
“There was only one.”
This was a scam and my feelings were hurt to think that this trio thought I was an easy mark. They also figured I was dishonest, because this scam works best when you stick the wallet in your pocket. Guilty by greed.
“Let us see the bills in yours to check the serial numbers.” The pseudo-cop was pursuing this scam to the end.
His drunken comrade once more said, “This honest man. Good man.”
“And not so stupid either. Let me see your badge again.” I backed away from them. The ‘policeman’ put away his badge. Three uniformed officers were rounding the corner and I said, “Better luck next time.”
I walked away with the trio going their separate ways, sure to reconvene for another attempt at shucking the unsuspecting tourist, whether Russian or foreign.
That was as close to danger as I came on my trip to the ex-USSR.
Other than contemplating crossing the broad Nevsky Prospekt, which meant certain death to brave the speeds driven by Moscowites in their BMWs and Bentleys. Now they were dangerous.
For a related article click on the following URL
https://www.mangozeen.com/2009/05/12/travel/drunk-in-moscow-not-idaho.htm