Am now in Russia.
Friday night, I visited a friend and stayed until late. To make sure I catch the latest bus, the friend checked its location in a public transit app which follows all the buses' location via satellite. He told me where and when to go but made a slight mistake about timing, so I had to run after the bus.
So I was running along the road on the opposite traffic lane, when all of a sudden a police car approaches, switches on the emergency lights and pulls me over. One cop with a submachinegun blocks my way, another one gets out of the car behind me and asks for my documents. I give him my British driving licence. He says "oh, look at this" and hands it over to his partner. Then the interrogation:
-- we had to cross the double white because of you! Where are you running? And most importantly -- from who?
-- I was running for the bus.
-- have you used anything forbidden?
-- no. I drank beer, but it's legal I guess.
-- oh yeah, I smell it well. have you got anything forbidden with you?
-- no.
-- put your stuff on the car and raise your hands.
Cop searches me and to his surprise finds nothing interesting. Bus disappears behind the horizon.
-- where do you live?
-- UK
-- hmm. Have you got their citizenship?
-- no.
-- OK. We'll drive you to the bus.
-- I will get a cab.
-- get in the car QUICK! Or the bus will go!
I realised that they were going to bring me to the police station and then make me give them a bribe, and felt that they will use force if I refuse, so I got in the car. We started moving.
-- so, where is it better to live?
If I say "in the UK", they'll beat the **** out of me, that's for sure.
-- if you like good beer, then in Russia.
-- we don't give a **** about beer. We love vodka and moonshine! And we are not the traitors to Motherland! By the way, where does this bus go?
-- over there.
The police car, passing on the red lights, chases the bus and cuts it on the bus stop. I thank the cops, wish them a pleasant night, get out of the car even before it stops completely and jump into the bus.
Fin.
P.S. boy, do I enjoy drinking decent beer again.
