You know, I never ever talk about drinking on here. I don’t think that it is central to my writing, nor do I want the young readers to be influenced in thinking that alcohol is cool/awesome/necessary. Because really, it’s not always great.
Let me start by saying that I am NOT a hard partier. Many people will attest to the fact that I am usually the first to go to bed or leave a party because I’m thinking”Hey, why are we up past midnight??! I have a book to read.” I was born about 75 years old. Give me a good book, a blanket, and a cup of coffee and I am SET. I am also such a high energy hyper person that alcohol just makes me sleepy. My eyes start to droop almost instantly, and if you let me lie down there is no use in trying to wake me. Ask any of the girls I lived with in college. WOW DO I MISS FELLAND HOUSE.
Ok moving on. Every Saturday I play soccer with all Russian men. It’s usually really great, although sometimes men just really like to show off and not pass. This is always my complaint about playing soccer with guys. HEY PASS THE BALL AND DON’T THINK ABOUT ME BEING A LADY.
Anyway, we went to a cafe afterwards. I wasn’t really asked if I wanted to go, but just put in the car and asked what I wanted to order. Russians really don’t take no for an answer….if you are given a choice that is. Not that I am good at saying no either. It’s not my strong point…one could say. But really, I was not too keen on going in the first place.
This is the last time I am drinking with all Russian men.
We were eating our food, and we paused about every two bites to make toasts with shots of whiskey. I was privileged to give a toast (in English), and it was pretty eloquent given the amount of alcohol I had already consumed. Russians are pretty long winded with toasts, let me just say now. They all stand and it’s really quite formal in some ways. One guy made me sit down though because I was a lady. They did toast to my beauty though, which was pretty hilarious. I was like “YEAH TO MY BEAUTY WHOOOOOO!” I danced with two of my teammates which was pretty hysterical because NO ONE WAS DANCING. No one. Not one. Except sometimes a drunk middle aged woman would dance by herself. I thought, I don’t want to be her when I am 43.
Then, when everybody was already drunk and gone, Sasha (teammate, good mentor and friend) made me meet the owners of the restaurant because I gave an English lesson to their son once. They were so so soooo nice, and they gave me fresh strawberries. I almost cried over them. Such a luxury here, let me tell you. The thing is, the owner poured me a GLASS of whiskey. Not a shot, not a little bit, A GLASS. I thought ohhhhh boy. There were many more toasts, and I finished my glass of whiskey. It was then past the time to go home.
I was on the metro and thought, why why whyyyyyy did I allow myself to drink with Russian men? I was whoozy, had the hiccups (embarrassing) and on public transportation. NOT A GOOD COMBO. I was supposed to meet Misha about two hours prior to when I actually arrived. I said hello, and then passed out immediately. Look how fun I am!
Regardless, it was a great night. I think I represented American women pretty well, ha!. I think that may be the last time I will have whiskey for quite some time. My advice is this: if a Russian invites you to drink, say yes, but don’t ever ever EVER believe you can keep up. Because you can’t. No one can.
Keep it real!