Russians and Middle School Teachers

My Saturday night was just a normal night, unless of course you pay close attention. After walking across the Longfellow Bridge (which trust me, is long) and going to the bathroom in the haunted Omni Parker House hotel, we caught the subway out to the middle of nowhere by the beach. While there, we stopped to pick up some liquor and I was eyed by an African Gray Parrot because I was staring too much. Fast forward about twenty minutes and we're drinking Stoli vodka and a Ukrainian honey and pepper vodka with several Russian immigrants while learning what knife, spoon, fork, table, and chair are in Russian. Up on the roof top we are smoking pot with a middle school German teacher, discussing how half a student in his class might use German outside of school.

Later on a rose is growing out of Mike's chest just for me and we are dancing an Irish Jig to Flogging Molly. Over the course of the night I ate several different kinds of fish, pickled, dried, ect. The dried fish was a whole fish, eyes and everything. Russian host rips off the head and skin and then hands me the fish, telling me to make sure I eat the dried caviar portion of it. It was delicious, but the caviar part was like eating a fish flavored gummy bear that stuck all over my teeth. Our cab driver home was a funny man who had to have been a little stoned. We get into the car and Kev "Oh, this is The Who!" Cabbie: "This is not The Who." Next song plays, "This isn't the Who either."

And so I wake up the next day not knowing how I got from the front door to my bed and with a cut on my thumb I have yet to identify the reason for.

Just a normal Saturday night.