Petersburgian Case File #6: Ian: 1

I had my first run in with a seedier side of St. Pete* today....and I totally kicked its ass!

If I eventually end up seriously injured or murdered here this is going to look very sardonically hilarious. I'm fairly certain in any work by Pushkin or Gogol I'd probably be dead before this was even published.

So I was walking to university this morning (I always want to write to school - it just seems to be easier to write "to school" than "to university." "To university" just sounds too clunky or too British, though there is certainly nothing wrong with the latter) at a decently quick pace, listening to my iPod and such, when a man approached me. Apparently this man was incredibly happy to see me as he proceeded to put one hand on my shoulder and another somewhere near my torso and then ask me for directions to the nearest subway. I told him I wasn't from around here, moved slightly away from him and picked up my pace. Now, maybe I just have a cynical view of humanity, but it seems to me that when you come up to the one person, on a busy street, with headphones on and ask them for directions (in the process put your hands on his/her body - if there is one things the Russians are not particularly known for it is being touchy feel-y with strangers), there may be an ulterior motive at play.

Maybe I got it all wrong. Maybe he was just hitting on me, in which case how do you say "Straight but absolutely flattered" in Russian?

I turn the corner and check my pockets. Empty?!? Oh no wait they were empty to begin with, never mind. See I got up that morning too lazy to spend another day dragging myself around the city in jeans. So I put on my sweatpants and, feeling the pockets were too easy to pick, put all of my electronics and wallet into my book bag. So while he may have still gotten into my pocket, he was probably immensely disappointed to find nothing there but a Nantucket Home pack of tissues.

Which, granted, are quite adorable and convenient so I thank him for not taking them as a conciliation prize.

Had I been wearing jeans my wallet would have certainly been in them and chances are pretty good that in the 10 seconds or so it took me to realize what was happening, he (and by extension my wallet) would have been long gone. So I suppose, once again, the day is saved by me having a complete and utter disregard for the most basic of fashion sense and caring for my own personal comfort above all else. Clearly, its people like me that caused this great republic to collapse.

*

Not to be confused with the risqué religious-themed Harlequin romance novel The Seedier Side of Saint Sebastian which I am writing for Pendant. (In bookstores everywhere Fall 2013)