Day 15 continued

Bryan slept a bunch, I read some and then slept some...we both woke up ready to find dinner...somewhere...anywhere...close by.

So we meandered down to the Metro station near us in search of  a cafe or something.

We found this little restaurant with an open patio, and it smelled good, so we thought we'd try it.

Well, all the outdoor tables were taken, so we sat inside, which was small and dark and a little smokey.  The waitress brings us a menu, and it is all in Russian, no pictures.  Awesome.  She speaks no English, we speak no Russian.  So.  Great.

She asks two business-men types at the table across from us if they spoke any English, and one guy did- hooray!  He comes over and sits next to me in the booth, and tries to help us order with his very, very rough English.  We figure something out with the waitress...and at this point, we are having some kind of salad and possibly a BBQ pork sandwich with french fries.  Great.

THEN this guy (his name is Serge-- NOT THE RR FACILITATOR SERGE!!!) continues to sit next to me and try to chat us up, asking us questions about why we were in U*, if I was from U* (um, no, that's why I don't speak Russian, dude!) and not understanding ANY of our answers.  He wants to tell us all about the problems of U*, keeps thanking us for being his friends, and then...oh, and then...

He starts singing.  Loudly.

He goes through his repetoire of American songs, singing them whilst staring Bryan in they eyes, and then tells Bryan that he "wants that they could sing songs together."  Bryan refused.

THEN somewhere in between the problems of U* and the Best of the Beetles, he says, "I would like that I could kiss your wife."  AND after the initial NO says something about how much, and $600...?  Ahhhh, no.  Nyet, nyet, nyet!!!  GAH!!

The other guy from the table is obviously trying to get him to leave us alone, but Serge wanted nothing to do with it.  We also notice that there is an almost empty bottle of vodka on their table.  Clearly, this guy was PLASTERED.

Bryan is sitting there wondering if he should be ready to knock Serge's head into the wall if he tries to get friendly with me.  I am trying to be uninterested so that he'll take a hint and leave us to our salads...and Serge has no intentions of leaving his "very new, very good friends."  He tries to light a cigarette, and Bryan and I are both telling him that we don't want him to smoke near us.  The not-as-drunk friend convinces him to leave the table to smoke, and Bryan takes the opportunity to sit next to me so that our very good friend cannot come back to my side of the table.

Thankfully, we finally think that we might have a chance at dinner without this awkwardness, but the FRIEND comes over and starts speaking to us in Russian, I guess forgetting the entire reason that they were involved with us in the first place.  I believe he was saying something to the effect of, "please excuse my friend, he is very very hammered," but we're not sure.

Serge comes back from his smoke break and tries to sit down again.  Not-as-drunk-friend convinces him to sit at his own table and let us eat.  Which is great.  We can finally enjoy our...um, chicken-fried-pork-cutlet smothered in cheese, tomatoes, and mushrooms with french fries.

But no.  It's not over.  Serge keeps hollering random things in English to us from his table.  And singing more American songs.

It was a long, awkward evening.  They did finally pay and leave.  And we ate some of our not-BBQ-sandwiches.  Back to Felice's tomorrow...!!!