RYAN MCCANN

Day TWO (or something) in St. Petersburg Russia.

What a beautiful city, what a stunning and lovely place. We marveled at the centuries old architecture, and considered what role we might have played here three hundred years ago. It truly is a spectacular place. And while we were looking at this beautiful place we decided to get plastered as soon as possible. I mean, you have to remember, this is fucking spring break. This isn't thanksgiving break or some bull shit like that.

We decided on a place called "Red Club" because it seemed like the most dangerous place.

Red Club.

The best place for those who like all kinds of good club music: from Techno and House to Lounge and live Nu Jazz, Rock, Nu Wave Music. Mach more different events, concerts, night parties. Youth public, friendly atmosphere, good music. Nice place.

Address: Poltavskaya str. #7.

Location: M. Ploshad' Vostaniya. From Moskowsky Train Station (Moskovskiy Vokzal) turn right to a small street, Goncharnaya, and follow it to the end, then turn right again and 40 meters further you will find it.Tel.: 7(812)717 13 60, 7(812)717 0000. web: http://www.clubred.ru/

We were not disappointed by this club. We had an amazing time. We began the night slowly with a couple of beers, which gave us the courage to put our guards down. We began telling Russian strangers of our trip. No one believed us. That's when things got a little out of hand. I'm gonna have to take the blame for this one... I've just always wanted to fight someone with a broken beer bottle.

Here's what happened: A couple of russian punks claimed that we were liars and that no one could possibly drive from the Boston to St. Petersburg. I said, "OH YEAH? tell me that one more time you son of a bitch!" I wipped out our beautiful scrapbook that we'd been working on and yelled, "WHAT NOW PLAYOVSKY HATAHHH??".

That's when all hell broke loose. Some Russian biddy spilled her beverage all over the scrapbook. I took my beer bottle, smashed it against the bar, and went for the first Russian I could get my hands on. I was able to gash him in the arm before the bouncer came over and kicked me out.

While I was sitting outside the club on the curb, down on my luck, thinking things couldn't get worse, I realized that Lauren was still inside. God DAMNIT! I saw an image of the single, working class mothers laughing at me. What a night, that is the last time I shoot dope.

Three hours later, Lauren came out with a beard and shifty eyes that told me not to ask about the beard.

So I didn't.