You know you feel very safe when the number of bouncers standing outside a
dive bar equals or exceeds the number of total occupants that can fit
into said bar. [Its simple mathematics really. The owners just assume that the sort of people who frequent their bar may, at one fine moment, collectively (this is Russia after all) become violent and so they try to maintain a 1:1 ratio of enforcers to customers to put down any such revolt.] And the dive bar is, of course, playing all of your
favorite American hits of the 80s and 90s. I'm all for immersing oneself
in the culture but with the average lifespan of a male here being 58, I
must admit I don't care all too much to set my sites on being a
statistical median. So there we stood, my friend's bag being searched by
one of these 6 foot tall, quite likely former god knows what [KGB?], as
we tried to get into a small, crowded, smoky bar full of very hip
looking Russians who were listening to the Rednex version of Cotton-Eyed
Joe.
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