It always starts so innocently. Then a curious trip to a Mad Max-themed biker bar with a $30 cover (call it an "accent fee," since native Russians pass freely past the beefy guards) turns into a descent into the mouth of soapy madness (see above). But let's not get ahead of ourselves...
8 p.m.
8:10 p.m.
8:15 p.m. Buskers walking from car to car in the metro. Note the mandolin.
Time irrelevant at this point as mind blown by dreadlocked bride skank-tappin' at Sexton, a biker bar in west Moscow.
And thus began the foamtastic voyage. For some reason, this bar was pumping soap suds out of a huge tube, sort of like that birth scene in "Aliens."
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