Lost in Russia--The Return pt.1

To recap everything in chronological order would take forever, because this trip to Moscow was chock full of ridiculousness. It only took 5 minutes after getting off the Metro to find someone passed out on the ground, and in turn it only took 56 hours for your correspondent to come very close to being in that state, having to be prevented from climbing into a dumpster full of nails at 6am. Some highlights of the trip that will not be documented with photos below:

--A man throwing up in trash can on the street, with puddles of vomit littering the sidewalk in the surrounding blocks.
--A naked man coming to his first-floor window at 3am. He lived (or was stuck in) a building close to a fairly active nightclub. We were standing outside talking, apparently loudly enough to attract his drunken attention, so he stood on something, possibly his toilet and invited us inside to drink with him. When we said no, he then threw the bottles someone else had left on his windowsill at us.
--Being threatened with a serious asskicking twice in a one-hour period at the active club near the naked man's house. The first time, I stepped on a man's foot too many times in the extremely packed dancefloor. He put his hand on my shoulder and said in English, "My friend, if you do that again I am going to kick the shit out of you." 45 minutes later, I was apparently dancing too close to the female version of the Tasmanian Devil (meaning that she was spinning all over the club dancing too close to EVERY male there), whose extremely ugly boyfriend took me aside and basically said the same thing. At least he shook my hand when I said I understood.
--Arguing with a waitress who not only tried to scam me on the bill by charging me for a water that should have been included in my meal, but also served us a "salad" that was supposed to be "layers of vegetables" but really was just a mound of beets and mayo. She delivered the bill in a beat-up, broken, dirty, empty DVD case and then ignored me when I took issue with her scammin'. In retaliation, we considered smearing the "salad" all over the rubles we left, but instead pointed out the hair that had been found in my friend's soup.
--Getting face-controlled at a popular Moscow nightspot, meaning we were not let in while everyone else in the world was. Arguing with the doormen was another futile exercise.
--Getting yelled at by a Russian poodle who was hanging out the door of a parked car while his enormous owner sat in the driver's seat and read the paper.

Now, for the visuals:

Lost-eye view from a dancefloor, first night. Dude in the white shirt told me there were "too many faggots" at this particular place. When I suggested that he just tell them he wasn't interested, he said, "Yeah, with my fist".


String quartet in the Metro station.


Bottle of urine in the street.


Airbrushed Russian car #1. "Yes, that's right, I'd like the Swamp Thing to emerge behind the Rumple Minze girl on the DRIVER'S SIDE back door, not the passenger's."


Airbrushed Russian car #2.


Detail of airbrushed Russian car #2: note the bats on the bumper that are supposed to be accompanying the dragon in its attack on YOU.


A visit from my Russian brother Sergei.


This guy on stilts, in a gold lame outfit complete with witch's hat and angel wings. He was passing out fliers for the restaurant behind him. He was really into being photographed, and as I walked by him he started throwing gang signs and yelling, "YO YO YO!".


Detail of man on stilts. He's actually quite terrifying. I wouldn't advise hiring him for restaurant promotion.

OK, stay tuned. More tomorrow. Much more.