In Which the Metro is the Place to Be

08.11.2008

So, I was sitting in the kitchen yesterday, contentedly eating my breakfast blins, with the TV in the background. I was sort of half-watching the TV, which was playing this awful show in which a poor woman marched up and down a runway in front of a live audience and a panel of judges who proceeded to tear her apart. Suddenly, I hear a rather strange construction... "очень неплохо" (ochen' neplokho - very not bad). At first, I didn't really think anything strange had happened. Then ... I started thinking about the phrase in English. Very not bad? What the hell is that supposed to mean? I guess a better translation would be "not bad at all!" or something.

Odd metro moments this weekend: When I was going to Central Station on Saturday: As I was waiting for the metro, this woman about my age comes up, and she's dressed mildly "gothy," I suppose, and seems terribly bad-tempered. Well, we get on the same car, and sit across from eachother, and she kept staring at me. Of course, I NOTICED she was staring at me, so I looked at her, and she immediately averted her eyes and started giggling to herself. I was like "wtf?" and this happened at least five times. She was pretending to read a book, but she kept looking up at me. When the train got to Gostinyj Dvor, I was terrified that she was going to follow me off the car and ask for my number, or something, so I kind of RAN off the train onto the platform. She didn't follow.

On the way back from Central Station, Sunday morning: We came to a stop, and when the doors open, three drunk Russian guys came in. In UNISON, they sat down on a seat, and they all leaned over in the same direction on each others' shoulders and went to sleep. It was amusing. I wish I had my camera with me.

On the way back from Pikovaya Dama, Sunday night: Maneka and I got on a metro, and at the end of the car (another) drunk Russian guy was rolling around military-style, carrying a nerf gun... When the doors opened he was like peeking out and twirling his gun around, and then the doors closed and he was like “DOORS CLOSED! WE'RE SAFE!” and resumed rolling around the wagon. His friend just sat on a seat playing a guitar and singing.

I've realised that I'm turning in to one of those people I hate so damned much -- CLUB BUNNIES!! Well, maybe not. I'm just going to clubs almost every week... Of course, I'm not really drinking (because it's too expensive) and I don't really have many FRIENDS in said club (more on that in a second). Basically, I just go to dance ... To absolutely horrible music. Which I have come to tolerate, probably through overexposure. I do have to say that I absolutely LOVE the feeling of coming home at 6am, absolutely exhausted from a night of dancing, and going to bed. No joke.

The night was a hell of a lot better than last time, even though I didn't meet anyone. From what I can gather, Fridays are themed "Very Few People" and "Straight Guys Come to Prey on Women and Mock the Gays," while Saturdays have ... more people. I've identified several types of people who go to Central Station:

-Women who want to escape crass men in other clubs
-The straight guys who hear of this refuge and come to prey on said women
-The boyfriends of some of these women
-Massive amounts of stunningly attractive guys with boyfriends who are equally stunningly attractive
-Me
-Random guys who seem to go by themselves week after week, alone (actually, I fit in this category)
-The creepy older men who prey on the random guys, and all of the random guys, excepting myself, seem to enjoy it.

When I first got there I saw this guy who looked EXACTLY like my Human Rights teacher, even in how he was dressed. I started to hide, then I realised it WASN'T him. That was mildly amusing. Then I saw this other guy who had been there last time I went, only, this time, he was dressed a bit better (last time he was wearing a ... tuxedo? I actually thought he was a waiter for the restaurant downstairs, but actually I think he just decided to wear a tuxedo to a club). Well, at least, I THOUGHT he was dressed better, because I thought he had his jeans tucked into neat boots ... but then I looked closer and saw that he was wearing dress shoes with his jeans rolled up, and black argyle socks. (Oh, and he has a massive mullet) OH RUSSIA. Actually, most of the guys with whom I wanted to dance (but didn't, because I'm TERRIFIED OF TALKING TO PEOPLE) had mullets. I'm going to kind of miss the mullets, after I leave. Really, I've gotten to the point where I like them. ... That's kind of sick.

In any case, while on the second dancefloor, I saw someone wearing an ... orange and white trucker's hat? I actually haven't seen one of those since I got in the country -- Baseball caps aren't very popular, here. I looked closer and realised that it was SASHA! He didn't see me, so I spent the better part of two hours thereafter avoiding him. He eventually recognised me while I was dancing, but I made a point to not look in his direction. I retreated downstairs to hide amongst the throng of the people, but after getting tired of that I went back upstairs, thinking it was safe. BUT I WAS WRONG. He intercepted me at the top of the stairs and was like "DO YOU REMEMBER ME?! I CALLED YOU BUT IT DIDN'T WORK." I was like "Yeeeah I recognise you ... maybe the number wasn't right..?" I didn't actually give him a wrong number, but whatever. I pulled out my phone because he wanted my number again, and he just GRABBED it from me and called himself. I guess so I couldn't fool him AGAIN! Then he told me he'd call me and left...? It was kind of strange. Maybe he just wants sex. NOTHX. Maybe if he spoke clearly, were a tad more attractive, didn't dress like an idiot and HAD A MULLET I'd THINK about it. But probably not. He doesn't exactly seem interested in talking, so, whatever.

One thing I noticed was several people wearing sunglasses. In a poorly lit club. I don't think they were wearing them because they were drug users, though. I think they just thought they were cool, or something. One of them was dancing right in the middle of the dance floor, doing all these moves that I'm sure he thought was PRETTY FANCY. I nicknamed him "The King of the Club." He ran into a trashcan later in the night. After that it seemed he started to walk through the club WITHOUT his glasses on (he should have kept them on, though -- he seemed more attractive than with them off). The second was some guy who was alone almost the entire night, and also didn't wear sunglasses unless he was ... alone, dancing in a corner. What a strange fucking country.

The last takes the cake, though. Towards the end of the night there was this massively attractive guy wearing white pants and a button-up shirrt, and, of course, sunglasses. Well, he comes up and starts dancing with a group of four girls, and unbuttons his shirt, then starts lewdly grinding with them. That was mildly disappointing. But ... after that ... He walks off, the girls disperse... he starts dancing again, and this ... MASSIVELY MASSIVELY creeper guy comes up behind him and they start dancing. And making out. That was just horribly horribly revolting. But I guess since the guy was wearing sunglasses he couldn't see anything anyway. And on top of that he was probably drunk.

Oh, and, next week, they're having a ... Black Party? I guess that's supposed to be like the White Party in the U.S., or something. Club theme nights always tend to be ambiguous, though. I'm just going to assume it means there's going to be a lot of black.

Alright, I just spent FAR, FAR too much time talking about Central Station.

Sunday night I went to see Pikovaya Dama/Queen of Spades (opera) at the Mikhailovskij. It was actually fairly awful. All the male roles were just terrible, especially the main one. The lead singer was off key most of the time and his voice was just terribly unpleasant to listen to. The women were pretty awesome, though.

Friday and most of Saturday I worked on my Russia/U.S.A. Mid-term, which I'm doing on the Hungarian Revolution of 1956. But I'm not going to talk about that because this entry is getting absurdly long.