In my nearly five years of living in Russia I have only once wondered if I was about to get punched in the face. That was during my first year and a drunk student took exception to the fact that I was talking about Jesus. By the end of that encounter he professed to by my most faithful friend and would do anything to take care of me. Oh the wonders of malted beverages mixed with 19-year-old braggards!
This past Tuesday I wondered for a few seconds if I was really going to get it this time.
Our whole team was on a crowded bus - strollers, babies and all. A couple of us were talking in English chatting about our day and trying to stay out of the way of other passengers. That is when a nearby middle-aged man with his shirt needlessly unbuttoned revealing an unimpressive stature leaned over to me and asked in Russian if I was English. No, I said, I'm an American.
"Oh, you American Boy, yes?!" he said loudly in slurred English. I smiled wryly and affirmed him. That's when his face turned sour and I could smell the bitter stench of alcohol in his breath as he said in Russian, "I hate America, I (probably a curse word) will kill the lot of you," then he made a gun shape with his fingers and pointed them at me and said, "I'll shoot your president myself."
Realizing he had probably 30 pounds on me and that I was armed with only a stroller (Charlie was sitting with Jess 15 feet away) and a beginner's class of Tae-Kwon-Do which I failed at the age of 8 my immediate thought was "how do I diffuse this situation?" He looked menacingly at me again and asked if I understood. I replied solemnly and began to turn away. That's when I thought the punch was coming and began to wonder what to do next.
He then went on to exclaim how great Russia was and how amazing the people are. That's when my good friend Dan disarmed the tense situation like an expert on the bomb squad. With a big grin and in clear, accented Russian he leaned across me and into the guy's earshot and said, "Yes, and they are so friendly too."
I should stop here and clarify that this guy is an absolute exception to the rule of how Muscovites are in public and how they treat foreigners. In all my years of living in Russia and interacting with Russians they are almost always without exception some of the friendliest, most devoted and wonderful friends anyone could imagine. Moscow is like New York or Chicago, there's a lot of people, you're crowded and everyone's in a hurry, being polite on a bus isn't a big value. However, being a loving and devoted friend is a HUGE value, it just takes getting past the stranger phase onto the the acquaintance then friend stage to discover this. I've bumped into, stood next to or stepped on probably thousands of Russians and not once has this happened before. This guy was just drunk and wanted to prove how cool he was to the people around him. Anyways, I digress.
After Dan's interlocution the drunk smiled broadly and agreed going on to extol the friendliness of the people of Russia then profusely offered his help with anything we needed. He got off at the next stop and whilst lumbering toward the door offered to shake our hands, again insisting on being available to help whenever we needed it.
I turned to Dan and said, "That's never happened to me here." Dan's response..."I hear it all the time 'Oh I hate America, blah, blah, blah.'...I just smile and say 'Yes, you're right, we're all evil.' then they laugh and we start talking."
How do you disarm a drunk? I never got that far in Tae-Kwon-Do so I'm not sure, but for now I'll just rely on a smile and a sense of humor.
This past Tuesday I wondered for a few seconds if I was really going to get it this time.
Our whole team was on a crowded bus - strollers, babies and all. A couple of us were talking in English chatting about our day and trying to stay out of the way of other passengers. That is when a nearby middle-aged man with his shirt needlessly unbuttoned revealing an unimpressive stature leaned over to me and asked in Russian if I was English. No, I said, I'm an American.
"Oh, you American Boy, yes?!" he said loudly in slurred English. I smiled wryly and affirmed him. That's when his face turned sour and I could smell the bitter stench of alcohol in his breath as he said in Russian, "I hate America, I (probably a curse word) will kill the lot of you," then he made a gun shape with his fingers and pointed them at me and said, "I'll shoot your president myself."
Realizing he had probably 30 pounds on me and that I was armed with only a stroller (Charlie was sitting with Jess 15 feet away) and a beginner's class of Tae-Kwon-Do which I failed at the age of 8 my immediate thought was "how do I diffuse this situation?" He looked menacingly at me again and asked if I understood. I replied solemnly and began to turn away. That's when I thought the punch was coming and began to wonder what to do next.
He then went on to exclaim how great Russia was and how amazing the people are. That's when my good friend Dan disarmed the tense situation like an expert on the bomb squad. With a big grin and in clear, accented Russian he leaned across me and into the guy's earshot and said, "Yes, and they are so friendly too."
I should stop here and clarify that this guy is an absolute exception to the rule of how Muscovites are in public and how they treat foreigners. In all my years of living in Russia and interacting with Russians they are almost always without exception some of the friendliest, most devoted and wonderful friends anyone could imagine. Moscow is like New York or Chicago, there's a lot of people, you're crowded and everyone's in a hurry, being polite on a bus isn't a big value. However, being a loving and devoted friend is a HUGE value, it just takes getting past the stranger phase onto the the acquaintance then friend stage to discover this. I've bumped into, stood next to or stepped on probably thousands of Russians and not once has this happened before. This guy was just drunk and wanted to prove how cool he was to the people around him. Anyways, I digress.
After Dan's interlocution the drunk smiled broadly and agreed going on to extol the friendliness of the people of Russia then profusely offered his help with anything we needed. He got off at the next stop and whilst lumbering toward the door offered to shake our hands, again insisting on being available to help whenever we needed it.
I turned to Dan and said, "That's never happened to me here." Dan's response..."I hear it all the time 'Oh I hate America, blah, blah, blah.'...I just smile and say 'Yes, you're right, we're all evil.' then they laugh and we start talking."
How do you disarm a drunk? I never got that far in Tae-Kwon-Do so I'm not sure, but for now I'll just rely on a smile and a sense of humor.
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