American Womans

Cooch to cooch, this trip was starting to get really motherfucking trippy. For one thing, Lauren never explained to me why she was in a Bellhop's uniform. All she told me was that her other clothing had been covered in blood, and that she had been kidnapped by what was left of the Russian Monarchy. She also mumbled some things about Anastasia... maybe I would have believed such a one of a kind story if Lauren didn't blame ALL of her promiscuous adventures on Anastasia, more or less.

I forgave LT for her terrible beer/mescaline-goggle judgment and we decided to go site-seein'. Lauren and I are feminists at heart, so we decided to first visit the Monument to Catherine the Great. We did not know Catherine personally, but from her monument she seemed nice. Great seems like a lot to say about anyone. But again, neither of us knew her so we can't say. Next we went to the Alexander Column. That one is pretty self-explanatory. We decided to cleanse our souls real quick at Smolny Cathedral. Lthomp's made me throw holy water on her and sing some Russian hymns. When I was done she looked up at me, soaking wet, and asked if she looked more pure. Honestly, she looked a lot worse, but I didn't have the heart to tell her.

After this Lauren and I were looking for a nice place to just sit down and eat lunch somewhere. We chose the Moscow Victory Park. There is a bit of a NYC vs. Boston rivalry between Moscow and St. Petersburg. We were once again on the right side of that animosity. While at this park we encountered a couple other tourists. They were from London, and boy did they show it. For one thing they made the largest mistake possible, they thought Stalin's body was somewhere buried in St. Petersburg.

"Ello chaps, have you any idea where we may pay homage to Stalin's grave?"

To which I replied:

"Well you can find his mummified body in Moscow...duh." reppin' 'Merica.

You've never seen two angrier commie's. They turned beat red with anger. Lauren tried to make a witty joke about them being members of the red party, but she accidentally rhymed a couple words in the joke, losing all credibility. Well at least she didn't have the hiccups, because then I would have thought she were drunk.

Finally, we came to Dostoyevsky's monument. We really had to pay our respects to this man, we probably wouldn't have made it across the ocean if it hadn't been for his constant nagging and worrying. While visiting this monument something bizarre happened. A crazy old man with googly eyes and a scraggly beard limped up to me and told me to beware the southern route. "BEWARE THE SOUTHERN ROUTE", he exclaimed. Confused and taken aback, I asked him why but he said nothing.



Shit, Lauren and I thought (after you drive through Canada with someone you end up thinking just like them), we have to begin our trip through the southern roads of Canada in a matter of days. We tried to distract ourselves from such an obvious omen by taking classes to learn how to paint those crazy eggs. But nothing could cheer us up.

We decided to call it a night, we stayed a decent hotel. I can't recall the name of it at the moment. But it was nice. We didn't fall in love with any of the employees or anything, but it was nice.