Russian Coincidence?

dave magee 2013

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Russian Coincidence?

It was approximately midnight when we landed in Moscow. There werent many English signs in the airport as my colleague and I navigated our way to the border patrol for security clearance and passport verification. I always thought border patrol to be an unusual set of words particularly at an airport. When you arrive at an airport you are generally far passed any border to cross from whence you came. You are in a different country, in an airport, far away from any familiar setting, and there is no going back until you move forward past security. I was traveling with Lindsay, a very tall blonde woman from my company. Needless to say, her Scandinavian good looks helped her fit right in with the Russian culture. I like to think that I blend into Russian society as well. Large cosmopolitan cities like Moscow tend to have a diversified group of people of different color, ethnicity and background. Moscow is certainly a major market for investing in the Russian economy, and it is the hope of tapping into this economic giant which is the justification of our trip to Moscow. The security line split into two parts; one for foreigners and one for Russian nationalists. My travel com padre chose the Russian nationalist line. Lindsay didnt care that it was the wrong line other than the fact that the nationalist line had approximately twenty people in it and the line for the foreign travelers had a few hundred in transit. I guess this decision falls in the category of the ugly American traveling abroad, which I rarely prescribe to, but lets be honest. I have often seen the reciprocal happen at US Customs in Newark Liberty airport, where foreigners purposely pick the shorter line and claim ignorance upon arrival with the officer. However, we were committed to the Russian nationalist line, and standing in line is usually good opportunity to observe people, even if it is only to pass the time. One person in particular stood out from those who accompanied us in the nationalist line, He was a man slightly overweight in proportion, sporting a bright white jump suit with red stripes starting from his neckline and extending down the outer length of his sleeves. The jump suit pants identically matched the white jacket and the red strips continued along both legs on the outer seam. The zipper from his jacket was undone, baring his hairy chest and a few gold necklaces. Unique would have been a polite word to describe this balding, greasy haired, goofy looking guy. He almost looked like a throw-back to the 1970s and could have easily appeared as a bad guy in Starsky and Hutch or one of Huggy Bears informants. (Google it if you dont know what Im talking about.) Lindsay and I made our way up to the front of the line and handed over our passport and visas. The border patrol officer looked up at us, looked down, and repeated this a few more times without saying a word. Then she mumbled something in Russian. Unfortunately, we did not understand a single word. Together we simply agreed by nodding our heads and assuming it would be the appropriate gesture while nonverbally communicating back to the officer. Apparently our response was satisfactory because no sooner did we nod our heads in agreement, did the officer stamp our passport page and let us through to baggage claim. Those who have read my other short stories know that it is always advisable to have the address written down when traveling in a foreign county. This recommendation is even more important in certain countries such as China, Greece, Romania, Czech Republic, in fact all of the former

dave magee 2013

Russian Coincidence?

Soviet blocked countries and most definitely Russia itself. It is also advisable to call the hotel in advance and ask them what you might expect to pay a taxi starting from the airport. We climbed into the cab and started our journey to the hotel, fully expecting to arrive at our destination in approximately twenty minutes. After all, it was just past 1:00am in Moscow. Surely there wouldnt be any traffic on a Tuesday at this time. We arrived at the Marriott two hours later. Obviously, our assumption about traffic was completely discredited. I have to give the driver recognition for trying. Throughout our commute he explored numerous alternate routes, but the highways and the main thoroughfares were packed. Nonetheless, we arrived at the hotel safely. The fare cost about four times what the hotel concierge indicated it would be. We didnt argue with the driver, grabbed our bags and headed for the front desk. There was one person being helped already by the manager, so we patiently waited in turn. A few minutes ticked by and suddenly, the man in the fancy white jump suite appeared in the turnstile. It was an odd coincidence, but we really didnt think too much about it in that split moment of recognition. I turned to Lindsay and said, Hey, theres Huggy Bear. Looks like he followed us. Lindsay smirked and stepped forward to speak with the reception clerk..Huggy followed in suit and stood behind me in line. The smell of his Hai Karate cologne was oppressive and most certainly overwhelming as I adjusted my body weight over to my left foot in order to create some distance. We made eye contact. I smiled and nodded my head in a gesture to say a nonverbal hello. And he responded vocally, Hello The volume and pitch of Huggys voice was something to be reckoned with and I swear if I had hair on the top of my head, it would have violently thrust backwards, not simply because of the deep throated pitch but also taking into consideration that Huggy probably had eaten an onion and garlic sandwich finished with a cheap cigar en route to the hotel There was an awkward moment of silence between Huggy and I. Lindsay finished checking in with the front desk clerk. I told Lindsay Id meet her for breakfast at 8:30 and off she went to the elevator leaving me with Huggy, and then he spoke again. Your friend. and he paused for three or four long seconds as he creepily gawked at Lindsay walk away while addressing me in an air polluted conversation that would make the environmental quality of Mumbai India seem pleasant. Huggy repeated himself, Your friend. Shes Russian? No, were American. She looks Russian. he said.

dave magee 2013

Russian Coincidence?

Just when I thought our brief interlude was over and I could check in to the hotel with the expectation of expediting my need for sleep, Huggy wanted to keep the conversation lively. Where from? he asked. Im from New Hampshire and Lin I stopped myself from mentioning her full name, . . . and shes from Denver. I humbly offered personal information to this complete stranger who had no business asking me any question, particularly at 3:00am. Shes tall like Russian. Huggy said with a presumptive quality that would make most woman want to slap him. Yep, . . . Ok, . . . . Im ahhh, . . .Im gonna check in here. Nice talking to you. And Huggy continued to add to the awkwardness, I have shopping mall in New Hampshire and in Denver. Where? Where? Where what? What do you mean? I responded more as statement rather than a question because I was completely confuzzled at Huggys inquisition (yes, I know confuzzled isnt a word, but Im sure you can figure out its meaning). Where you live in New Hampshire? Small town, very small town, which Im sure you never heard of. And I tried to appease Huggy, not too far away from Concord. Once again, I feared I was revealing too much personal information. I have shopping mall outside of Concord and one in Greely, Colorado. I dont know what caused me to react in such a sarcastic manner following Huggys selfpromoting statement. I guess sarcasm is just part of my nature, but I instinctively borrowed a line from Will Ferrell, more specifically from the movie Elf. Granted, I took the line out of context from the movie but applied it to the awkwardness of the uninvited conversation I was having with a strange ugly, arrogant, man in bright white jump suit Thats shocking! I said, attempting to cover up the insecurity I imagined with this unwanted dialogue. Then I stepped forward to speak with the front desk clerk. He took my passport, credit card and started processing my arrival. While I stood there trying to uncomfortably ignore Huggy Bear, I couldnt help but think about the odd coincidence that he owned two shopping malls which just so happen to be from the two states that Lindsay and I originated from. We had traveled all that way to Moscow approximately eleven hours earlier. This mans declaration truly was shocking, and, more than likely, it was not a mere coincidence. I thought more sincerely about this conundrum as I stood there waiting for my room key, fully intending to use this timely exchange as the excuse to end the awkward moment with Huggy
dave magee 2013

Russian Coincidence?

Bear. Then again, I thought to myself, maybe it might be advisable to throw caution in the wind and I considered that Huggy may actually have a real name, like Boris, and maybe Boris was a KGB agent? I was purely guessing, but maybe being nice to KGB agents would be a good thing. Not that I had any previous experience. This was the second time I had visited Russia. That trip was much more relaxed and carefree. However, during the first visit, I didnt go through the Russian nationalist line for passport control. And thinking back to the border patrol, Lindsay and I answered yes to some obscure question presented to us by the Russian speaking agent. Regrettably, we had no idea what was being asked of us. There I was standing in the hotel lobby with Huggy Bear (aka Boris) having a conversation about shopping malls at 3:00am in a Moscow. My mind was wandering aimlessly flip flopping from the immediate situation to the physical desire for sleep. I kept reminding myself that I had to be up in less than four hours to start my day and I really hadnt slept in nearly twenty four hours. So this is what a KGB interrogation would have felt like with sleep deprivation! I got my room key and made a careful and methodical turn toward the elevator. Huggy Boris Bear spoke again. Why you here? Now Im freaking out a little bit. What does jump suit Huggy Bear who owns a shopping mall in my home state, speaking with a deep Russian accent care about my agenda in Moscow?!! Business. Good night. Huggy persisted, What kind of business? Now, Im sure many of you will be surprised at my immediate reaction to Huggys last question, but I knew I had to end this conversation with some dignity and respect. Besides I was exhausted and truly needed some rest. I had not done anything wrong and I am always respectful of the country Im visiting. Huggy had nothing on me and I wasnt going to be interrogated any longer! Im an American dammit! Who is this guy in a clown like jump suit pushing my buttons at 3:14am anyway? Who does he think he is? I have rights! Im a good person! I object to his objections! So, I did what every self-respecting man would do in a situation like this. I turned to Huggy Bear and said, Listen. I dont know why you are so interested in my life seeing as you dont know me and I just want to get some sleep. Huggy reached into his pocket and I thought, great Im going to be arrested. What are you doing? I said nervously. Listen, Im going to bed. You have a nice night and oh, by the way. . . .

dave magee 2013

Russian Coincidence?

I was just about to tell Huggy in a flipped response that I would never shop at his shopping mall and that I intended to drive an extra ten miles to Manchester just to avoid his mall. Huggy slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket concealing a mystery item. He stretched both hands toward me and smiled. I didnt know what to do. I thought, this is it. Im arrested. He is going to put hand cuffs on me and Im going to jail. I actually thought that Id rather go to jail in the United States, even though I had absolutely no experience to draw from. My imagination overwhelmed even my feeble mind and the stereotypical Russian prison located somewhere on the frozen tundra of Siberia did cross my mind. Huggy opened his hands. Coupons. Big discount. Go. Shop. Have a good night. Huggy said graciously. I said a relieved and respectful thank you to Huggy Bear, but the sarcasm wouldnt leave my thought process. Ill be damned if I buy a bright white jump suit with red strips running the length of my body at your shopping mall. Huggy spread his arms out wide, looked down toward his attire and declared, What? There was no more time to explain it to him. I had heard stories from people who had traveled to Russia and had similar encounters with local Russian nationalists. I will never know for sure if Huggy Bear was actually Boris the KGB agent checking on my status and verifying the information that I provided on my visa application was consistent. Needless to say, I got to my room minutes later, looked at the bed and collapsed with exhaustion.

dave magee 2013