Strange Things | Planes, Trains, and Automobiles...

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles...

erratic_prophet | 12 May, 2005 16:46

It was the summer just before my senior year in high school. I was 16. I figured that I had a nice long summer of doing nothing and hanging at friends' houses doing nothing. This didn't bother me as much this year because some of my friends now had licenses and cars. That meant roadtrips.

Things didn't turn out exactly as I planned. Out of the blue, my father casually asked me if I'd like to go to Russia. "Sure," I said, quite sure that it'd never happen but wishing it would. Russia would beat a trip to the beach any day. Nothing else was said about it for a few weeks. I laughingly mentioned the whole thing to my friends and they were sure it would never happen also. Then one night, my father told me that I needed to get my picture taken for the passport. There wasn't enough time, we'd have to rush order it.

I was surprised, to say the least. I got my picture taken. It was awful. Mounds of paperwork. Visas, tickets, etc. I barely had time to pack. I told my friends I was, indeed, going to Russia. They still didn't believe me. We had a sorta bon voyage party at my friend's house. They were still waiting for the whole thing to be cancelled. But it was actually happening.

It wasn't until we got to the airport and were waiting on line that I started to panic a bit. This was my very first time on an airplane. I wanted my mom to come along, but she refused. She won't ever go on a plane.

While waiting, I bought a crapload of magazines even though I brought a crapload of books with me to read. I even offered to buy my cousin-- who was also going on the trip, along with his mother who happened to be my father's twin sister-- some magazines or a book. He refused. He snottily informed me that he'd be watching the movie on the plane. I asked if he was sure that there would be a movie on the plane. He said he was. I shrugged and bought my magazines anyway. I get bored too easily, it was a long flight, blah blah blah. I stuffed them into my already bulging backpack-- my carry-on stuffed with cassettes and books-- and headed back to wait.

We finally boarded. I asked for the window seat by promising to give it up on the way back. My father and aunt went back into the smoking section. It was just me and my cousin, Den, and some guy stuck in the aisle seat. Den and I fought over the arm rest a bit, then settled down to listen to the flight attendant. She wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know, so I popped on my headphones and listened to some Chili Peppers. I could tell that Den was straining to hear what I was listening to, but I avoided telling him for as long as possible because once I did, there was a minor scuffle over my headphones. The guy next to Den already looked worried. I almost felt bad for the guy.

A voice came over the speakers saying that there was a minor delay and that we'd be the next ones out. Yeah, he said that again an hour later when I was watching the sun set and eating my "breakfast". It irked me that they were feeding me breakfast at night. I'm not a breakfast foods person. I ate my cereal dry, drank my tea, traded my milk for a juice, and tried to choke down some rubbery scrambled eggs. And I waited. About another half hour went by before we took off. I was already half way through my first magazine.

I was surprised to find that the takeoff didn't scare me. Maybe because I was too busy laughing at Den, who was practically peeing his pants. He took over the armrests and I think he might've prayed a bit. I mocked him a bit and watched out the window.

Not even fifteen minutes in the air and Den started whining at me for a magazine. I wouldn't give any up, reminding him that I offered to buy him some and he refused. I told him to watch his movie. He whined that there was no movie. I smirked-- my favorite pastime-- and asked him if he felt stupid now. He grumbled and flipped through the safety manual thingie.

We made several stops-- Nova Scotia and Ireland-- and some questionable meals-- there was a dare to try the smoked salmon, it tasted like burning tires and took several drinks to get rid of that god awful taste-- before landing in Moscow. I hadn't slept a wink during the entire 13 hour flight. I'd been far too excited and, hell, I had books and music. I very nearly begged to stay in Ireland-- so beautiful!-- but was eager to get to Moscow. Leaving the airport was a bit of a blur. We were met by another cousin, A, who got us through without stopping at customs.

A asked if we wanted a tour of Moscow after we dropped off our luggage. We were supposed to take a smaller plane to southern Russia, where my family lives, but that wound up not happening for some reason that I can no longer recall. Something about it not being safe. We were going to take a train at midnight.

We walked. Oh, god, how we walked. I hadn't slept in over 24 hours, so much of the city was a blur. I do recall standing in Red Square. I saw a bride and groom walk through with their wedding party. I took pictures. I wanted to see so many things. I was soooo tired. Eventually, we went to rest up a bit at the hotel. Den and I found the Russian version of MTV and watched until we passed out.

I remember being shaken. I woke up and had a crick in my neck from sleeping sitting up. The tv was still on, playing cheesy hair band music. I was told to get ready to go. I washed up and went out on the balcony. There I saw a sight I'll never forget: Red Square, directly across the street from me, all lit up. It was surreally beautiful. I just stood there and stared until we had to run.

We drove to the train station and got our tickets. I remember running from platform to platform, dragging along my luggage, still groggy from my nap. We hopped on the train and settled into our compartments. It was a tiny little room. Two benches, covered in naugahyde, facing each other. There was a window and a small table under it that folded up. I wondered where we'd put our luggage and discovered that the seats of the benches lifted up and were the perfect size for our bags. I was squeezed into the room with my aunt. I wasn't pleased. We'd never gotten along, even on the best of days. But I was excited enough about the whole trip to ignore her barbs and jabs.

Even the little dinky bathroom down the hall didn't depress me. The sink was small and metal, the tap a pipe jutting out of the wall. I won't even describe the toilet or the smell. I banged my head on the pipe while washing my face before bed. I nearly took out an eye while removing my contacts. I asked how long the trip would be by train and was a bit depressed to hear that it would take 3 days.

I made my way to my bench/bed. I made a pillow out of a jacket and pulled the blanket-- made for someone about 3' tall and in love with itchy materials-- up around my shoulders and was rocked to sleep by the train. That is until I was nearly thrown from my bench when the train made a stop. The only thing that saved me was the table that I caught with my face. Did I mention that they turned up the air conditioner full blast? I was swiftly turning blue. I dug through my luggage, in the dark, and threw on whatever warm clothing I could find by feel. Then I crawled back onto the bench and found a way to cling to the back of the bench so I wouldn't fly off it the next time the train stopped. That's when my aunt started to snore. Loudly. Eventually, I passed out from sheer exhaustion only to be woken up by the very same aunt early in the morning because she felt I was being lazy sleeping in. Because how dare I sleep in past 6:30 AM on my vacation. Yeah, you see why we didn't get along? 3 days of that.

By the end, I became a pro at putting in and taking out my contacts without a mirror and in a moving train. I also discovered that you really don't want to eat the food on Russian trains. You buy food at the stops and hurry back on. I also learned that I really disliked my cousin and aunt. A lot. And I got to spend a whole 6 weeks with them in Russia. But more on that later..

We finally got to our stop. I very nearly kissed the ground. It was an odd sensation walking on still ground after all of that rocking side to side on the train. That very slow train. I recall watching people run past us while we were on it. But we were finally at my family's apartment. I wanted nothing more than to shower, eat, then sleep. In that order. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. We were to see visitors who'd come to see us. I hadn't bathed in days, nor had I eaten a decent meal, and I had to talk to people I didn't know and didn't want to know. I nearly cried. And then I found out that we'd be staying in a different apartment than this one. Without my aunt. That cheered me up a bit.

Thankfully, the people left quickly, I was allowed to bathe and eat. We were taken to the apartment in which we'd be staying. I had the futon in the living room, my father got the short bed in the bedroom, my cousin got a cot in the hall. Now that's what I call karma.