Moscow and Mercenaries

Steve in Red Square
see all photos »

After all this flying, I was a wee bit hungry, so Caitlin and I checked into our mammoth, 5300-room hotel in Moscow (called, simply, The Russia) and went looking for something to eat.

It's pouring down rain and we speak not a word of Russian, so we're limited to deciphering pictures of food. While stopping to decipher one sign, some large portly fellow beckoned from beneath an awning and asked us, in English, to come in to his restaurant. Which was underground. On a dark side street. This should have been our first clue. There's probably a passage in my "Let's Go Moscow!" guide that says "try not to follow strange men into underground grottoes." Alas.

Using the 30 words of English he knows, he explains that he's n ex-KGB agent, drives a tank, and has killed people for money in Bosnia.

This is what $1600 in Rubles looked like in the Summer of 2004.
see all photos »

Well Caitlin and I thought, hell, he spoke English to us, they must speak English inside. Except no.

Not one person in that wood-paneled dungeon spoke English. In fact, turns out the only English that guy knew was "please, come inside to my restaurant."

But the waitress was nice enough to get on the intercom and ask if anyone in the restaurant could please translate for the two American idiots at table 2 (I'm pretty sure Amerikansky and idyot mean what I think they mean).

So it ends up that one of the workers speaks a little English, and we order some really good food and some giant steins of beer. Meanhwhile, the place is jumpin with polka music. Four old dudes are in one corner booth singing Russian drinking songs, a large weightlifting bridge and tunnel type was drinking with his girlfriend in a booth, and four twentysomethings were shooting vodka in booth #3. That's when the waitress comes over with a huge bottle of champagne and a caraffe (a fucking caraffe!) full of vodka.

Caitlin, in the restaurant shortly before we made the aquaintance of Max the Mercenary.
see all photos »

Now I was pretty sure that I didn't say, at any time, "please bring me all your alcohol," so I was looking around quizzically when a fella stands uo from booth #3 and says "Is Russian gift."

Is Russian gift? Is Russian deathtrap. Ten minutes later this guy is siting at our table. Using the 30 words of English he knows, he explains that he's n ex-KGB agent, drives a tank, and has killed people for money in Bosnia.

"I mercenary, you student" I think was the exact way he put it.

So of course, what was there to do but go drink with him, his wife, and his buddies in booth #3. After about 7 shots of vodka, Max (that's the mercenary's name) asks me if I need to go to the bathroom. And I say sure. And then he corners me in the hallway of the bathrom and for thirty minutes tries to convince me to send Caitlin back to the hotel and to come back to his house with him. It's all much stranger in a Russian accent, but basically he tells me he has video games, a pool table, a pool, and lots of vodka. When I got tired of saying no and he got tired of saying "nyet, Steve, I very sad," he pointed down at the floor. So I look down at the floor to see what he's pointing at (heard this joke before?). And then he pulls his hand up really quickly like he's drawing a six-shooter and pokes me in the stomach.

"Is Russian surprise."

Yeah? Is fucking weird too. So that's when I decided it was time to go. The wait staff and everybody else thought so too, 'cause the lights start going off. Caitlin gives the waiter 800 rubles as she's pushing us out the door and we try to pay Max for the absurd amount of alcohol he bought. He wants nothing of it at first, and we all walk out of the grotto into the street. Max's friends, somehow, have a Mercedes waiting for them at the door, jump in and speed off. The waitstaff and the owner dissapear down an alley. So then it's me and Caitin with Max the mercenary and his wife, Sasha, all alone on this little street (plus some guy in a doorway across the street smoking a cigarette and probably chuckling about the whole matter).

So we go to leave, and Max physically bars me from walking anywhere and says "Steve. Steve. Me table...you...money pay." So I tell him Caitlin already paid, and he's like "No, Steve. Me table...you...money pay now."

Thinking I really shouldn't argue, I asked him how much.

"$1600."

He says this with a very serious look on his face. And of course I'm kind of scared, and Caitlin's like what the hell is going on. But we hear $1600 and start laughing.

"You mean 1600 rubles."

"Da, Da, 1600 rubles. Me table you money pay now." 1600 rubles is about $50.

"I don't have 1600 rubles, Max," and I start walking away. That's when he pushes me back against this fence and says "Steve, 1600 rubles, I kill you."

Meanwhile, poor Caitlin is standing behind Max, quickly flipping through our cheery "Let's Go Moscow!" guide book looking for the section where it tells you how to get out of a life and death situation on a dark side street in the middle of Moscow.

That section? Not in the book.

But as I stalled for more time, I think Max gradually realized that I really didn't have 1600 rubles.

So he looks at me, looks at Caitlin, looks around for his wife who has long since walked away, and then looks back at me, and says:

"Ok, how about 200 rubles for the metro?"