My Russian Friends: I make friends easily.

Last Saturday afternoon, when the announcement had just been made to postpone the Men’s Downhill Ski World Championships, we had anticipated that decision after looking at the cloud build up and made our way quickly to the shuttle bus queue.

It was a quite worrying crush, with a swarm of people 30 feet wide and endlessly behind us. You could feel the crowd behind trying to push forward and it was most uncomfortable. Steve had positioned himself behind me for my protection, he had his arms either side of me like armchair arms to hold the crowd back from squashing me. I was a bit concerned about it because the crowd behind was growing all the time.

As this was in progress, two quite big guys had appeared to my right and even though I would have said it was a time to pay attention, they were obviously very well oiled with alcohol and seemed to be enjoying the crowd movement that may have been holding them upright. They were much bigger than me and chose this time to start talking to me, getting closer and closer. They were so drunk that the fact that they were speaking Russian seemed to have slipped their attention. Steve tried to cut into this approach and tried his best to move me away from them but as he eased me away with all his strength, so they muscled their way along still chattering away, directing what ever it was that they were saying to me. They were all smiles and eventually they realised that I did not understanding a word they said and that in the end as a spoke in clearly in English it struck them as if tapped by and unseen wizards wand one suddenly got it. “OOOOOOOH English” He said and stuck out one fist and waited for me to do the same thing back which I in the fullness of time, since it is not a daily act for me to knock knuckles but I did respond and knock his big fist. More jostling and Steve had his arm held like steel between me and the biggest of the two Russian men. “We are in Newcastle” he said, “Alley Pally” said the other, which makes no sense at all unless they had gone to a football match. “You live there? You know it? Where you live?” The first one slurred breathing so much booze into my face that I hoped nobody struck a light. “No”.  I said. “Where you live he insisted?” “Brighton” Steve said, still managing to keep the guy at bay.

I swear that had it not been for the crush that the pushiest guy might have fallen over and taken me over with him. It was a bit unnerving and I was wondering why out of such a crowd he had chosen me the talk to; maybe I reminded him of his mother or his favourite Auntie since I am plainly an old lady even under the influence of quite a lot of alcohol.

I sometimes grumble at Steve because if he had his way I would be by his side at all times, and the ‘Need my own space’ speech is quite common place between us. On this occasion though, I was very glad he was not going to let me go as much as an inch out of body contact. The two men were both in the silly drunk stage but you never know with drunkenness, it can change in a flash.

Steve is excellent at seizing the moment and as the two guys moved toward a new bus moving in Steve barged his way in the opposite direction and we saw them get on the bus. Steve and I got on the bus behind theirs and thank God and all the angels the driver took a different route rather that stay in a train of buses.

Steve said “Well at least we have lost your Russian friends” and my heart rate slowed as the bus drove back toward to town on it own. When we alighted we went to look for somewhere to eat and headed for the Restaurant Hauser that we knew well and were glad to be able to relax and take the weight off our feet after standing for so long in the race village.

After we had eaten our meal Steve turned to call the waiter to pay but then pushed himself in front of me and said “Quick cover you face up, your Russian friends are back”. I huddled myself down and hid my face behind my hand. Thankfully my Russian friends headed straight for the bar and slumped on stools hanging over the counter, which was a huge relief.

Steve whispered to me “How do you do that?”

“Do What? I replied.

“Put out that magnetic field to every whack job in the area, you attract them like flies”. I have to admit that that is true, they all make a bee line for me.

As Steve paid I snuck away to go to the toilets before we left. Because it was still a party day in St Moritz there was a queue all the way down a curving staircase to the cellar toilets, ladies on one side and men the other. Of course the men’s line moved faster than the women’s line did.

I was almost to the bottom of the stairs when to my total horror I saw one of my two drunken friends come out of the men’s toilet. I turned my face toward the stairs going up and put my hand over my face the more exposed side. Thinking they could not possibly recognise me without the down coat, hat and sunglasses anyway.

In a flash I felt a big hand on each of my shoulders at the back and nearly jumped out of my skin when he spun me round to his smiling face.  He then let go and pointed to himself to show he it was only him!!!!!!!. Then he put his arm back around my back and took the other shoulder again and spun me back the other way with astonishing co-ordination considering his state. There was the chattiest one of the two big men who was also grinning an idiotic drunken smile and was waving two ‘V’ signs each side of his face looking so pleased to have found me again, even though I doubted that his eyes could still focus!

Thank heaven that being drunk does seem to slow the reflexes down quite considerably and I managed to duck away and shoot up the stairs at the speed of light to where Steve was waiting for me with my coat and we moved out of there and up the street very fast where I told Steve what had happened down the stairs. He said that he was getting worried because I was so long.

It is a complete mystery to me that people can drink so much and for so long and still be able to stand up let alone walk. It is also a mystery that I was the one chosen to be their friend for the day whilst the two delightful women we met on the train Tamara and Katrin were not seen for the rest of the entire day. Maybe they were hiding and trying to get away from those guys too.

Tamara sent me their photo by email, so kind and so happy a memory, you see there is always some good as well as the bad in the world.The good thing was to get such a happy photo and the bad thing is no matter how many times I change it or rename it, it will not load the correct way up. it is a gremlin of the mobile phone. So you will have to look at this picture sideways to see our lovely new friends.