Ernest Goes To Ukraine

For those of you who have seen the Ernest movies, I would almost swear that I was asked out on a date today by his older, drunk, Ukrainian brother. I ran out of minutes on my phone and attempted to make a quick dash out to the store to get a phone card. Of course, simply getting out of the house at the moment takes a little preparation in this 21 degree weather: longjohns? check. Wool socks, boots, jeans, shirt, sweater? check, check, check, check, check. Scarf, gloves, ear protection and hat? All there. Ready to go.

So off I went, having added a few items to my list. As I was putting the bellpeppers in my cart, a guy wandered up and started asking me questions about some guy I've never heard of. Konstantin somebody. I never quite caught the last name, but that's mainly because he wasn't positive he remembered it. But he knew Konstantin's brother's name: Valyera. Well, that still wasn't much help to me, since, #1)I had no clue what he was talking about and #2)there are tons of Konstantins and Valyeras in Ukraine. He was very disturbed that I couldn't answer his question and kept asking me what kind of Ukrainian was I? After a couple minutes of this(as he got closer and closer), I realized two things: 1) he was drunk and 2) he was talking about some famous Ukrainian music group. He described them very thoroughly to me"one guy writes and the other one sings. The music is very sexual and emotional and popular." I continued to explain that I didn't know the group to which he was referring.

Finally, I got frustrated with his questioning my Ukrainian identity and explained that I'm NOT Ukrainian. His reply, "Well, how do you speak Russian, then?" Keep in mind that he had been doing the majority of the talking, as my policy in public is to keep talking to a minimum. So of course, he then wanted to know where I was from. So I told him and that prompted another strange conversation. "I've always been afraid of Americans, but you're not scary. Are you sure that you're American? You speak Russian. Americans speak English, not Russian." At this point, I was feeling fairly uncomfortable, as he had long ago invaded my personal space and I was having to endure the odiforous fragrances of garlic and alcohol wafting out of his mouth.

I was ready to make a break for it and was stealing furtive glances around, in the hopes that someone would come to my rescue. Alas, the closest person was a babushka, who, while looking very sorry for me, didn't give any signs that she was going to come to my rescue. Meanwhile, the interrogation carried on: "Where are you from again? You live here? Are you here by yourself? Where are you headed next?(in the grocery store. What, we're going to do our shopping together, or something?) Why don't we take a break(cause I'm so exhausted from shopping?) and go sit down for a while upstairs? Hey, where's my shopping cart? Who took my shopping cart?"

At that, I made my move. As he turned to look for his cart(which he had left in the middle of the aisle, so someone had pushed it aside), I dashed in the opposite direction, trying to make a quick getaway. Quick! Grab everything and go as quickly as possible! You can do it! As I rounded the corner of the cereal aisle, I heard behind me, "Anya, wait for me!" I pretended not to hear and kept going, trying to get lost in the cookware and soap aisles. After a few minutes I peered around the corner and decided to head towards the checkout, and beyond to freedom. I made it safely back through the wind, snow and cold and as I was unlocking my door, I realized......... that I had forgotten the phone card.