The Adventure of the Amazing Shithole
My sleeping schedule got fucked recently so when I woke up, all the stores were closed and I had no food left at home. I decided to go on an adventure and take my new Steemian family with me. So I decided to go to one of the most dangerous areas of my city (where people are known to get knifed) and pick the most obscure bar I can find and see if I can get something to eat.
Fortunately, I found this place right next to the road and it was open. I think it is always open. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out everyone inside were vampires like in the movie From Dusk Till Dawn. Russian vampires. With knives.
I moved closer and saw a big post-apocalyptic looking menu on the wall. Great, there's food.
There was loud hard bass coming from behind that door. I thought, "Fuck it, it's for Steemit" and stepped inside.
There were around 4 people in the bar, including the Bartender. I walked past the slot machines to my left and went towards the bar, where the Bartender was already waving and greeting me with a big smile on her face. I thought she was going to say "Your droids, we don't serve their kind here, they'll have to wait outside" but then I remembered I don't own a droid. I asked her if they had anything to eat and she said "only solyanka" - which is a typical thick, spicy Russian soup. I said I'll have that and a beer.
This dude who looked like a junkie made eye contact with me and looked disturbed - what's with these types of bar-dwellers who hang around right at the counter near the bartender and start shit with new clients like in Star Wars: A New Hope? It's like a certain species. A bar wouldn't be a bar without them - God bless them. Anyways, I tried to quickly analyze which table had the least stickyness to it, sat down at one and lo and behold - sat right into a pool of stickyness. I then grabbed my phone and started pretending like I was browsing the internet while actually secretly taking pictures and video clips of my surroundings.
The Bar-Dweller grabbed my beer from the Bartender and brought it to my table, then proceeded to start dancing like he was at a music festival, pouring water on his head.
Not long after, the Bartender brought me my solyanka soup and asked me why I'm taking pictures. Before I even had the chance to explain she grabbed my beer glass, smashed it against the edge of the table and stabbed me with the broken glass right in the face. Ok that didn't actually happen. I told her I'm writing for a blog on a new revolutionary website called Steemit and she wanted me to write down the link. So I did, envisioning the consequences. She leaned closer to me and said "Just make sure you don't take pictures of me serving alcohol okay?" and laughed. I fake laughed back and asked "Why not?". The cunning smile on her face was quickly replaced with that familiar look - 'Are you a fucking idiot?' and she replied "Because we're not allowed to sell alcohol."
I won't tell anyone if you don't?
Soon after, probably to help make the place look like the amazingly awesome shithole it was, the Bartender whipped out a microphone from under the counter and started singing Russian karaoke. It was right then that I knew I was going to die. Just kidding.
She sang her heart out (not a bad singer btw) and only gave fuel to the fire that was raging inside the Bar-Dwellers heart. As she was singing, the Bar-Dweller tried to reach out to her for a kiss several times, even grabbed her for a dance when she came out from the protection of the counter and then new characters started swarming in from the entrance as if on queue. Old men, like in their sixties, strutted in with young, fit women hand-in-hand and started ordering drinks.
One of the men came up to me and started yammering about something in a slavic language I'm not sure was Russian and didn't seem to care when I told him in Russian that I don't understand what he's saying. He pointed towards an apartment building outside the window and smiled at me - the only logic that my poor little brain was able to conjure was that he was inviting me to a whorehouse or something, I don't know. Maybe it's just my sick fantasy.
Probably not.
I finished my beer and my solyanka and got a little paranoid that the barmaid went to check on my Steemit blog somewhere because she wasn't anywhere in sight, she had been gone for like 5 minutes. So I grabbed my jacket and went for the exit. Then I stopped. I looked at the slot machines next to the exit and realized I hadn't taken a picture of them yet. So I grabbed my phone and snapped some shots and as soon as I did that, the men who were sitting there drinking and playing got paranoid.
One of them, who looked like an old, washed up Russian mobster smiled at me, revealing his gold teeth and pointed at a big disclaimer sticker on one of the machines that said these slot machines aren't for money, that they're just arcade games. I fake smiled back, shitting my pants a little and noticed the Bar-Dweller behind him looking at me like shit was about to go down - I think he actually thought at that point that I was Police, there to snoop on the establishment. Well, that was my queue to leave. I told the old man that It's okay, I'm just taking pictures for my blog and left, looking behind my back all the way home.