Good afternoon.
Of course, I'll start with the hotel, the hotel area is not very large, but beautiful.
We lived on the 13th floor, the bed is normal, the room is spacious with a balcony.
Plumbing is old, but everything worked. In general, the room is normal.
Breakfast was included in our ticket, during all this time we went to breakfast only 1 time, the food was terrible, it even seemed to me that there were some insects in it, we didn’t go anymore.
The hotel itself is beautiful and large, the Chinese came to us all the time to look at the tower, there was a restaurant on the top, but everything was expensive there and we didn’t go.
The beach was private, compared to other hotels such as Jamtien, the beach here was very good, much better than the city, the photo is attached. But of course, if you compare it with the Dominican beach, you can’t compare it, in the Dominican Republic it’s 100% better, well, it’s the Caribbean.
There was also a water park on the territory almost, but it is paid, but the water park is cool, it's worth going.
You leave the hotel and there are a lot of cafes, we were in all of them, the prices are very low, we liked to eat every day at the Ogonyok cafe, everything is very tasty and huge portions, especially Tom Yang soup, and rice with seafood, very tasty. Drinking local beer Chang is also good advice.
Of course, outside the territory it smells of sewage throughout Pattaya.
We almost didn’t stay at the hotel at all, we rested for 14 days, and in 14 days we tried to travel around many interesting places where we just weren’t, in Thailand there are surprisingly very beautiful excursions and everything is very interesting, we really liked it everywhere.
Tours we took:
1. The crocodile farm is very interesting, fed the crocodiles, saw the show and other animals, even tried the crocodile.
2. The tour to Bangkok is amazing and very interesting, the city is huge, we went to the aquarium and to the restaurant to eat where to shoot the movie The Bachelor Party is very tasty.
3. River Kwai 2 days is just an unreal journey and waterfalls, and river rafting, Thai massage and insane atmosphere of love.
4. Be sure to visit the Khao KEO Zoo, my husband and I were delighted, we touched everyone and fed all the animals that were there, this is the coolest zoo I've been to.
5. Nong Nooch Park is a very beautiful place.
6. We were also at the Tiffany show, go to the show 69 1 time and it’s worth visiting, believe me.
7. There were white besok on the island of Samet, I advise you the purest water.
And of course the street is the most famous WALKING STREET must visit.
We have been to many other places and where we went, what can I say, if you are going to rest in Thailand, the hotel is not particularly important, it is such an amazing country that you will never be in a hotel, but in general, I recommend our hotel for sleep, relaxation, definitely not for food, but food at the hotel is not needed in Pattaya, everything is very cheap and tasty.
If you are interested write about excursions.
© A. Lirnik, 2014
© Design. Eksmo Publishing LLC, 2014
All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use, without the written permission of the copyright owner.
© Electronic version of the book prepared by Litres (www.litres.ru)
* * *
Author's Preface
As I write this foreword, the book is not finished yet. But, as soon as the text is ready, in this place there will appear a confidential and not devoid of self-irony appeal of the author to the readers. In which I will report that the book, they say, is the first, and, they say, do not judge strictly. And I will say "thank you" to everyone who needs to say "thank you". And I assure everyone else that the work has nothing to do with real people and businesses. And I'm happy to note that the book is designed for a wide readership. And finally, I will express the hope that everyone will like my modest creation: both those who laugh out loud while watching The Hangover in Vegas, and those who quietly chuckle while rereading Three Men in a Boat. And I will add that I dedicate my book to the author of the last work. Thank you for my happy childhood, dear Jerome K. Jerome!
Anton Lirnik, autumn 2013
Chapter first,
in which the reader will get to know the main characters of this story, learn the true joy of meeting old friends, and at the same time feel all the destructive impact of such meetings on the fragile human body
- Vasily Ivanovich, enough, don't play around! My heels continued to tickle inexorably, and I tried my best not to laugh. But then a claw sank into his leg. It was too much. I threw slippers at Vaska, and the cat darted offendedly under the table. I got up from the couch and stretched sweetly. The gray Moscow morning slowly crept in through the window.
It's good that I didn't get drunk yesterday. New Year's corporate parties are an insidious thing. First, everyone makes a toast in honor of the director. An hour later, they begin to dance to Serduchka. Then they famously play twister, stepping on ties and dress hems with their hands. Then the speeches become shorter, the glasses fuller, and the ladies get prettier every minute. In the morning you find yourself in the caretaker's closet with the chief accountant's bra in your pocket. This time I restrained myself, drank little - took care of the liver. I won't lie, it was boring. In addition, the pretty office manager Nina, offended by my restraint, went to hiccup on the shoulder of the deputy director. But for the time being, a not weak collection of compromising evidence lurked in the mobile phone.
Outside the window the metropolis was buzzing, Muscovites hobbled to work. And my New Year holidays have already begun. Our director is a great connoisseur of human souls. He let everyone go for a walk since December 24th.
So after lunch I was going to fly to my native Yekaterinburg. After taking a shower and a cup of coffee, I scooped up a crop of washed socks from the radiator and began to pack. The doorbell rang.
- Artyom, what is the best way to feed Vasya: liver or kidneys? asked the neighbor Klavdia Stepanovna. The former ballerina entered my bachelor pad with well-practiced grace.
– Through times, only strongly not indulge. Last time he got so drunk on your diet that he jumped on my chest and nearly broke my ribs. The old woman chuckled mischievously.
So are you flying home? When will you be back?
“I don’t know yet,” I replied, putting things into my bag, “you can’t guess with my friends.
- I do remember. How did they sing when they flew in that winter?
- "Misha from Seryozha got in the face!"
- Yeah. Seryozha - which one is small? Good boy, so polite. - An elderly neighbor, due to her naivety, took Serezhin's state of smokyness for politeness.
- Well, let's get on the track!
With mournful faces, we sat down on chairs, I picked up the cat.
- Vasily Ivanovich, you remain in charge. Do not be rude to Claudia Stepanovna, do not drive cats, watch yourself and your country!
Two hours later I was already entering the airport building. In my gradation of transport hubs, the airport certainly ranks first. The airport is not at all like the noisy railway stations and shed-type bus stations, smelling of beggars and pasties. Everything in it is solemn: the passengers, and the planes, and the piles of gray troughs in front of the frame, and the hair of the stewardesses, forever pulled together by something at the back of their heads. I boarded the plane and sat in my rightful seat 16D. Like all passengers, my face took on a majestic expression. This happens to everyone who is involved in the process, but not involved in its implementation. The chair next to me was still empty. I hoped that the "mysterious stranger" would take him. Of course, such fantasies are somewhat silly for a thirty-two-year-old, albeit unmarried, man.
“Excuse me, is this location 16E?” - The stranger, slightly squinting, examined the numbers on the panels. Under the fur coat was a short, tight-fitting dress just above the knees. Around the neck is a light scarf. The image of a fellow traveler was complemented by mother-of-pearl lipstick on slightly swollen lips and the alluring smell of perfume. My inner hussar grinned and mentally twirled his mustache.
“Sit down, please, let me pack your bag!”
Thanks bro, I'll pack my bag! - Because of the girl, a second neighbor materialized. Before the build of Gerard Depardieu, he lacked three hundred grams. However, he has already accepted two hundred of them. It’s good that Yekaterinburg is only a couple of hours away. The girl slipped to the window, and the big man with difficulty squeezed himself into the chair between us. I felt the first bout of aerophobia.
- I'm lazy, give me a flask. Well, let's take a sip, shall we? The second sentence was for me.
Thanks, I'm going to my parents. I don't want to upset my mother.
Mom is sacred! For parents! - said the bumpkin and thoroughly kissed the flask.
* * *
Smooth landing. While I applauded along with the rest of the passengers, my neighbor enthusiastically snored out the window. His secretary (for his wife she was too accommodating) waged another bird-pig war on the phone. At Koltsovo airport, everyone immediately rushed to the luggage millstones. My suitcase crawled out first, and I went out into the waiting room with a feeling of deep moral satisfaction. Where I immediately saw a red-haired boy with a YOLKIN sign in his upper limbs. Smiling taxi drivers crowded around him.
“Hey, are you meeting me?”
– Artyom Yolkin?
- He is.
- God bless. Otherwise, these hamadryas have been teasing me with "Palkin" for five minutes.
- I understand, at school I didn’t hear that.
- My name is Igor, Mikhail Matveyevich ordered to meet you, - Igor spoke to me at the same time and looked into the paper, which he clutched in his hand.
Is this the text of your welcome speech?
- No, it was Mikhail Matveyevich who described you, just in case.
“Let me see,” snatching a piece of paper from Igor’s hesitant hand, I began to read my orientation. “Brunette, medium height, small belly, brown eyes. Elegant, as he thinks, stubble. I raised my brown eyes to Igor.
“It looks like quite an elegant stubble,” he tried to correct the situation.
- Come on. Why didn't Mikhail Matveyevich come himself?
“He said he wanted to surprise you!” Yep, he's calling. One minute! Yes, Mikhail Matveyevich, yes, I met, I give! Igor shouted into the phone and handed me the phone. A familiar bass sounded from the speaker:
- Hello, Artyom, how are you? Didn't burp in flight? And Laptem and I have already ...
- Did you spit?
No, we are in a restaurant! Shashlik, vodyara and our hospitality are waiting for you! Come quickly to us! To drink, to get drunk, to tinker in the mud! - Misha was in his repertoire. There were two light and one dark in his voice. I vividly imagined him talking on the phone, lounging in a chair with a gigantic body. Light brown hair, slightly damp from alcohol, stuck to the forehead of not a boy, but a husband in his early thirties.
- Excuse me, I'll visit my parents first, we haven't seen each other for six months.
- No problem. But you don’t stick with the old people for a long time, otherwise we will attack without you. All! We wait! Give the phone to Igor.
After listening to the boss's valuable instructions, Igor helpfully grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and we went to the car. Going out into the street, I breathed in the frosty Ural air with pleasure. Here I am at home, okay! The driver led me to a huge black jeep and opened the door himself. Great Misha trained his employees, they go straight to the line, I thought, and flopped into the back seat. We set off.
Mikhail Makarov is my school friend, we sat at the same desk. Together they made chimneys, went on first dates together, entered institutes in one year. I'm in pedagogy, he's in polytechnic. From school, Misha was teased by "Homemade" because of his passion for design. And it was not in vain that they teased: at the age of twenty-five, he opened his own service station, then several more. Now Makarov already had a powerful business, debugged like a Swiss watch.
- Is it true that you and Mikhail Matveyevich blew up the chemistry room at school?
- It's not true, Igor, the crater remains from the explosion. And there, only the glass flew out and the cleaning lady began to stutter.
- Oh, cool! Is it true that you...
“Wait, do you know where to take me?”
- Of course, the boss told me the address, I will deliver it in the best possible way.
Squeaking wheels in the snow, the jeep drove into my yard. The native Khrushchev house was ruffled from the cold, a rocket was gray among the snowdrifts on the playground. On its side was an indisputable green inscription "VIKTOR TSOI IS LIVE!". Strange, before the inscription was blue. They update it, right?
- All the best to you!
- Thanks Igor!
Climbing up to the fifth floor, I took a breath and rang the doorbell. From the open door there was a smell of spicy spirit: mother was frying cutlets. Crossing the threshold, I shook hands with my father.
Hello, Ilya Kuzmich.
- Hello, Artyom Ilyich. He let me into the hallway and closed the door with his usual equanimity. As if I had returned from the store, and not flown for one and a half thousand kilometers.
Why didn't you call? We would set the table.
- Son, hello, my love! - Mom came to me in time with kisses. Dad accepted the coat, critically touching the thin lining.
- Lucky. A little more - and they would have missed each other!
- Where are you going?
- Let Artyom come in, Ilya, that you stuck him in the hallway! - Mom grumbled for show and disappeared into the kitchen.
In the living room, I sat on the sofa. The carpet on the wall effectively complemented the dad's story.
- I bought "last-minute trips" to Egypt. Mom wanted to see the pyramids all her life, and I wanted to smoke a real hookah.
Well, that's good for the horizon. And when will you return?
- In twelve days: ten days there, plus two days on the road. In short, one leg is here, the other is there, - my father summarized gymnastically.
- Hey! Conqueror of the East, Artyom, go eat, the cutlets are ready, - our mother called us.
What can you bring back from Egypt? she asked me at the table.
“Anything but papyrus.” And I beg you, don't ride camels...
– What is it all of a sudden?
- It's gone.
- Don't grumble. Well, for Egypt! - We clinked glasses of cognac.
An hour later, the parents rushed off to the airport, towards the Red Sea and hot sands. Somewhere in the depths of my soul I envied them. Alone at home, I'm too old for such a film. However, no one canceled the Three Musketeers format.
Hello, Misha? How are you there?
- Very decent! Wait... Hey you, in a bow tie, bring us another decanter! Only at the pace, otherwise we lose the rhythm! Hello, Artyom, how are your parents? Give them respect!
They have gone to Egypt!
- Oh, brother, you can’t do this with relatives!
- They left on their own, they wanted to see the pyramids.
“Shut up, they’re going to the East, and you’re going to Kolosok!” Do you remember where it is?
- Oh shit. Misha, this is an eatery for drunks.
“Wake up and sing, it has long been converted into a family restaurant with striptease and chillout.
- You come, you will see everything yourself, and most importantly, you will touch it!
* * *
Forty minutes later I was standing in the lobby of the Kolosok restaurant. The glass-eyed guard was looking for my last name, running his finger down the list of non grata.
- I have not been to you yet, you can not look.
- Everyone says like that. Are there weapons?
- No, what can you suggest?
- Joker? Well, well, you are welcome!
In the center of the hall, a small, about thirty people, corporate party was noisy. The toastmaster, as if descended from an advertisement for a rehabilitation center, majestically made a toast. The men cackled at the jokes from the book "Merry Feast", p. 82. In the far corner of the room, both of my friends were decorously drinking: one hundred and twenty kilos of Misha and one hundred and sixty centimeters of Seryozha. In the semi-darkness of the restaurant, I flanked them and barked, “Hands up, monogamy test!” In response, Misha elegantly choked on a salted tomato. Sergei immediately began to fight for the life of his friend: the blows of his fists fell on Makarov's back.
I already talked about Misha, now I will draw your attention to my second friend. We were introduced to Sergei Laptev by the Ural television, where Makarov and I posted a commercial for his first service station. My slogan is "The car broke down - get the stash!" Laptev called him idiotic, in response I called him a cretin. We almost got into a fight, and it grew into a strong friendship.
After television, Sergei changed a dozen jobs. On each of them, he cynically neglected the dress code: his arafatka and army boots organically complemented the image of an anti-globalist, esoteric and almost dystrophic. Short, round-shouldered, thin, Laptev was the walking personification of a midlife crisis. Brown hair gathered in a ponytail. Gray hair of a small bush of a beard. When looking at this almost thirty-five-year-old teenager, the word "planokur" naturally popped up in most people's heads, and popped up not without reason. But this did not bother Sergei in the least. And Sergei's shameless indifference was to our liking.
Finally, Misha cleared his throat:
- You can’t scare me like that, I almost gave up! - from Mikhail, ruddy from vodka, it was possible to draw the symbol of the Olympics-80. His gray-blue eyes sparkled with joy and alcohol, and a spotty blush on his cheek emphasized the heroic health. I smiled and held my arms out to the side. Makarov scooped me up like a bear.
– Penalty to our metropolitan friend! - Misha and Sergey barked, as if they had been doing that rehearsal of this phrase since our last meeting. Simultaneously exhaling air, we drank while standing and immediately ate cabbage.
Shish kebabs smoked appetizingly on the table, pickles, mushrooms and herring stood around them. Boiled potatoes turned white next to sliced cheese and sausage. A decanter of vodka erotically fogged up next to a jug of kvass. I rubbed my hands vigorously in anticipation.
“And you are doing well here.
“There is no reason for sadness, Artemon. Everyone has a crisis, but we have Christmas! Gee-gee-gee!
- This makes me happy. What did you mean when you said that Kolosok is a family restaurant with striptease?
“Serge, explain to the man the essence of pleasant changes,” Makarov announced and took up the herring.
- Everything is very simple. After nine o'clock in the evening, waitresses go topless, and dancing begins at the pylon without underwear and prejudice.
“And what time is it now?”
– The beginning of the ninth, so we have time for everything!
- Glory to the company "Glavstolinvest!!" – proclaimed the toastmaster, and the whole corporate party suddenly raised their faces from the plates.
- Hooray!! Hooray!! Hooray!!!
From this cry, we shuddered, the chandeliers swayed, and a plastic tulip from a small vase fell into my aspic. It was some kind of acoustic aggression. On top of that, Misha's phone rang.
“Quiet, this is Sveta,” Misha said either to us or to the toastmaster and for some reason stood up. - Hello, Svetik, hello to you! What? Well, I told you. Artyom has arrived. What does "the same one" mean? Yes, I am with him! Seryozha is also with us, so what?.. I warned you... Yes, I will buy onions, tomorrow, at least a whole bag! What?! Now I'm going to shove someone like that ...
I felt uncomfortable. This is what happens when you are waiting in line at the dentist, and outside the door the doctor is unsuccessfully trying to seat a screaming child in a chair. I looked at Laptev. He calmly squeezed a pickled tomato into his mouth.
- Seryoga, maybe I should talk to Sveta?
“Don’t, let the storm subside on its own.” We will not interfere with the revelry of the elements.
- Hello, Sveta, don't hang up. Svetik! St…” Misha, turning purple, sat heavily on a chair and slammed his phone on the tablecloth. His wife had the appearance of an angel and the temperament of a demon.
In order to somehow put our nerves in order, we immediately drank. Then we drank another one each, and the feast rushed along the long-trodden route. The empty decanter vanished, giving way to its brimming colleague. The toasts were shortened until they were reduced to gestures. It was nine o'clock in the evening. Busts of waitresses reminded us of dessert. Melons and apples were ordered (there were no watermelons, but in vain). Looking around, I realized that the fun had swept the restaurant like a tsunami. Tamada started arm wrestling with the director of Glavstolinvest. Subordinates obsequiously made bets on the victory of the boss. He pushed with all his might. The crimson face and the veins swollen on the forehead foreshadowed an imminent heart attack. The strippers, forgetting about the pylon, cheered for the toastmaster. Inspired by their wavering support, I raised my glass and focused my eyes on my drinking buddies.
- Friends, if you only knew how glad I am to see you! Let's drink to our glorious friendship! I get pretty damn sentimental at times. Misha and Sergei's chins trembled treacherously. We clinked glasses, knocked over and ate. What happened next, I don't remember.
* * *
I woke up from the fact that the legs that lay on me began to move. Lord, whose are they? One sock is blue, with deer, the other is black, with a hole. "Sergei," I breathed a sigh of relief. But how did we get to my house? I raised my buzzing head with difficulty. Our jackets were piled in the center of the room. Under them someone hummed: "Water, water ..." - it was Misha. Outside the window, the sun was blazing red. Dawn or sunset? Unclear. With great difficulty, I got up from the couch. My brain was beating like a heart. In the mouth, it was possible to safely carry out the Paris-Dakar race. Misha's head in Budyonovka appeared from under the jacket mountain. Are we transported back in time? I stared at my friend, unable to put the words into sentences. He broke the silence first.
“Are you going to stare at me like a ram at a new gate, or will you bring water?”
- What are you doing on the floor? - I said, although to an outsider it sounded like "Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah."
- Water! For heaven's sake, Yolkin, don't be a fascist!
- I will bring it now. How did we get to my house?
- Don't you remember?
- Bring water - you will receive information.
Raising Misha's head, I began to drink him from a glass. Makarov's teeth tapped against the glass.
- Eco has dismantled you, comrade brigade commander. Did you put a lot of whites yesterday?
- At first everything was zashib. We drank, then we drank, then we danced. By the way, you danced on the table.
- And I beat the toastmaster in the face.
- For what?
- He called Seryoga a faggot.
- A fag?!
- Something like that. Laptev dispersed the girls and began to dance at the pole.
“He’s a fag himself,” came from the couch.
- Oh, the disco dancer woke up, - Misha laughed and immediately grimaced, - Oh, oh, side! I think my rib is broken.
- And what happened then?
“Then a guard came running. Remember that asshole with the glass eye? And he started hitting me.
- And you began to blizzard him.
- Artyom, do you have a beer?
It was the owner of the deer sock who spoke again. With a hangover, Sergei despised water. Groaning, he got up from the couch and hiccupped. It took away all his strength. But Laptev gathered his will into a fist and courageously fixed me with an inquiring glance. These were not eyes, but drills. I had to answer:
- I don't have a beer.
- Then I'll go. How much will you take: three, five?
- Come on three, a stall in the yard. Money on the nightstand.
- Yes, I know. Makar, keep quiet for now, please, I'll be right back, - shuffling his feet, Sergei rushed into the hallway.
Ignoring Laptev's request, Makarov continued:
- When we were kicked out of the restaurant, we went to me, but Svetik began to throw a bow at us.
So she didn't have a bow.
- I brought.
– Where did you get it?
- I bought it in a restaurant, half a bag. Crimean, sweetie.
- Have you tried it?
- I had to. Wait, I have to go to the restroom, otherwise I'll go under myself.
With difficulty overcoming the gravity of the earth, Makarov got to his feet and fixed himself. Now he would really need a third leg to balance and stabilize. Taking unsteady steps, he set off on a journey five meters long. From everything it was clear that this grueling marathon required maximum composure from him. Tormented by curiosity, I continued to ask questions.
- And where did Budyonovka come from?
Makarov has already reached the toilet. His answers were accompanied by jets and groans.
- Ooo. Then we went to the bathhouse for healing and prevention of colds. Seryozha and I jumped into the pool, and you closed the attendant in the steam room.
- So why were you silent? Gotta go open!
- Late. Oh-oh-oh, how good.
- He broke the door. I had to make a fuss, he gave Budyonovka for change. Felt, absorbs moisture well.
- Yeah, cool, we annealed it yesterday. Don't say anything.
- And everything is Svetka! Twisted me like a kid ... - the sound of the drained water drowned out the next words. - Right now, I'll call her and stuff it like that! It will be a week to drink validol! Give me the phone, otherwise my sat down.
The independence of Mikhail's judgments about the family structure grew in direct proportion to the distance between him and his beloved wife. When Svetik was not around, Makarov was a brutal male, a kind of symbol of sexism and intolerance towards the feminine. But as soon as Svetlana appeared on the horizon, the armor of God cracked like old paint on the walls of a beer stall.
- Hello, Svetulya! Listen, I'm sorry, my love, that I was like that yesterday ... Yes ... Yes, I didn't do it on purpose! Why are you starting right now? Ah, that's it! Check yourself three times! You yourself went! We're not flying anywhere! Fly yourself. On a green broom! And wherever you want, everything, I do not care! What?! Yes, you know where to go? - after these words, Misha slammed the phone against the wall with a flourish. The wall turned out to be stronger, and the phone went into a “very heavily used” condition.
Updated: 2017-1-24
Oleg Lazhechnikov
65I'm driving here for the second week by car to Koh Samui, and I just can't figure out what's wrong. Like and dislike me on it, although it seems that the car should be a more comfortable means of transportation. In general, some conclusions can already be drawn. I share :)
To begin with, I want to say that I have enough driving experience, after all, I’ve been driving for 13 years already: I had to work on a car at one time, and traveled to Europe, and rode around Russia. This is me to the fact that I feel pretty confident behind the wheel, despite the right-hand drive and left-hand traffic.
Summary
In fact, my conclusion is this, regarding movement within the resorts: if you go somewhere to a specific place, then driving a car is quite convenient. But, if you are just going to look around, look for some store or something interesting along the way, then this is some kind of hard labor. The road is narrow, it’s hard to stop, because the stream is following you, often you just fly by, because it’s somehow not ethical to drive very slowly. I tried to drive a car just without a goal to look around, I slipped through so many interesting things, because it’s not always convenient to turn around ...
But if you are driving on the highway, on the contrary, the car and only the car. I traveled well by car in the north of Thailand, turning circles around Chiang Mai, I got perfectly from Bangkok to Krabi, Phuket and back. Moreover, still along the way, stopping by all sorts of national parks and resorts along the way. I even slept in the car once, got tired and stopped to take a nap for several hours, very comfortable.
When choosing between a bike or a car, most often people are guided by price. But I would still consider driving safety. I know that thousands of people ride a bike, but those are less for me. Whoever decides this for themselves, it all depends on personal preferences, budget, fears and experience. So in fact, these two factors are decisive for most people, the choice is yours.
P.S. I advise that I won’t rent it, I myself like the feeling of riding a bike, but with a child or for long hauls, I personally always choose a car.
Life hack 1 - how to buy good insurance
It is unrealistically difficult to choose insurance now, therefore, to help all travelers, I am compiling a rating. To do this, I constantly monitor forums, study insurance contracts and use insurance myself.
Life hack 2 - how to find a hotel for 20% cheaper
Thank you for reading
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Current page: 1 (total book has 13 pages) [accessible reading excerpt: 9 pages]
Anton Lirnik
Three in Thailand, not counting dogs© A. Lirnik, 2014
© Design. Eksmo Publishing LLC, 2014
All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet and corporate networks, for private and public use, without the written permission of the copyright owner.
© The electronic version of the book was prepared by LitRes
* * *
Author's Preface
As I write this foreword, the book is not finished yet. But, as soon as the text is ready, in this place there will appear a confidential and not devoid of self-irony appeal of the author to the readers. In which I will report that the book, they say, is the first, and, they say, do not judge strictly. And I will say "thank you" to everyone who needs to say "thank you". And I assure everyone else that the work has nothing to do with real people and businesses. And I'm happy to note that the book is designed for a wide readership. And finally, I will express the hope that everyone will like my modest creation: both those who laugh out loud while watching The Hangover in Vegas, and those who quietly chuckle while rereading Three Men in a Boat. And I will add that I dedicate my book to the author of the last work. Thank you for my happy childhood, dear Jerome K. Jerome!
Anton Lirnik, autumn 2013
Chapter first,
in which the reader will get to know the main characters of this story, learn the true joy of meeting old friends, and at the same time feel all the destructive impact of such meetings on the fragile human body
- Vasily Ivanovich, enough, don't play around! My heels continued to tickle inexorably, and I tried my best not to laugh. But then a claw sank into his leg. It was too much. I threw slippers at Vaska, and the cat darted offendedly under the table. I got up from the couch and stretched sweetly. The gray Moscow morning slowly crept in through the window.
It's good that I didn't get drunk yesterday. New Year's corporate parties are an insidious thing. First, everyone makes a toast in honor of the director. An hour later, they begin to dance to Serduchka. Then they famously play twister, stepping on ties and dress hems with their hands. Then the speeches become shorter, the glasses fuller, and the ladies get prettier every minute. In the morning you find yourself in the caretaker's closet with the chief accountant's bra in your pocket. This time I restrained myself, drank little - took care of the liver. I won't lie, it was boring. In addition, the pretty office manager Nina, offended by my restraint, went to hiccup on the shoulder of the deputy director. But for the time being, a not weak collection of compromising evidence lurked in the mobile phone.
Outside the window the metropolis was buzzing, Muscovites hobbled to work. And my New Year holidays have already begun. Our director is a great connoisseur of human souls. He let everyone go for a walk since December 24th. So after lunch I was going to fly to my native Yekaterinburg. After taking a shower and a cup of coffee, I scooped up a crop of washed socks from the radiator and began to pack. The doorbell rang.
- Artyom, what is the best way to feed Vasya: liver or kidneys? asked the neighbor Klavdia Stepanovna. The former ballerina entered my bachelor pad with well-practiced grace.
– Through times, only strongly not indulge. Last time he got so drunk on your diet that he jumped on my chest and nearly broke my ribs. The old woman chuckled mischievously.
So are you flying home? When will you be back?
“I don’t know yet,” I replied, putting things into my bag, “you can’t guess with my friends.
- I do remember. How did they sing when they flew in that winter?
- "Misha from Seryozha got in the face!"
- Yeah. Seryozha - which one is small? Good boy, so polite. - An elderly neighbor, due to her naivety, took Serezhin's state of smokyness for politeness.
- Well, let's get on the track!
With mournful faces, we sat down on chairs, I picked up the cat.
- Vasily Ivanovich, you remain in charge. Do not be rude to Claudia Stepanovna, do not drive cats, watch yourself and your country!
Two hours later I was already entering the airport building. In my gradation of transport hubs, the airport certainly ranks first. The airport is not at all like the noisy railway stations and shed-type bus stations, smelling of beggars and pasties. Everything in it is solemn: the passengers, and the planes, and the piles of gray troughs in front of the frame, and the hair of the stewardesses, forever pulled together by something at the back of their heads. I boarded the plane and sat in my rightful seat 16D. Like all passengers, my face took on a majestic expression. This happens to everyone who is involved in the process, but not involved in its implementation. The chair next to me was still empty. I hoped that the "mysterious stranger" would take him. Of course, such fantasies are somewhat silly for a thirty-two-year-old, albeit unmarried, man.
“Excuse me, is this location 16E?” - The stranger, slightly squinting, examined the numbers on the panels. Under the fur coat was a short, tight-fitting dress just above the knees. Around the neck is a light scarf. The image of a fellow traveler was complemented by mother-of-pearl lipstick on slightly swollen lips and the alluring smell of perfume. My inner hussar grinned and mentally twirled his mustache.
“Sit down, please, let me pack your bag!”
Thanks bro, I'll pack my bag! - Because of the girl, a second neighbor materialized. Before the build of Gerard Depardieu, he lacked three hundred grams. However, he has already accepted two hundred of them. It’s good that Yekaterinburg is only a couple of hours away. The girl slipped to the window, and the big man with difficulty squeezed himself into the chair between us. I felt the first bout of aerophobia.
- I'm lazy, give me a flask. Well, let's take a sip, shall we? The second sentence was for me.
Thanks, I'm going to my parents. I don't want to upset my mother.
Mom is sacred! For parents! - said the bumpkin and thoroughly kissed the flask.
* * *
Smooth landing. While I applauded along with the rest of the passengers, my neighbor enthusiastically snored out the window. His secretary (for his wife she was too accommodating) waged another bird-pig war on the phone. At Koltsovo airport, everyone immediately rushed to the luggage millstones. My suitcase crawled out first, and I went out into the waiting room with a feeling of deep moral satisfaction. Where I immediately saw a red-haired boy with a YOLKIN sign in his upper limbs. Smiling taxi drivers crowded around him.
“Hey, are you meeting me?”
– Artyom Yolkin?
- He is.
- God bless. Otherwise, these hamadryas have been teasing me with "Palkin" for five minutes.
- I understand, at school I didn’t hear that.
- My name is Igor, Mikhail Matveyevich ordered to meet you, - Igor spoke to me at the same time and looked into the paper, which he clutched in his hand.
Is this the text of your welcome speech?
- No, it was Mikhail Matveyevich who described you, just in case.
“Let me see,” snatching a piece of paper from Igor’s hesitant hand, I began to read my orientation. “Brunette, medium height, small belly, brown eyes. Elegant, as he thinks, stubble. I raised my brown eyes to Igor.
“It looks like quite an elegant stubble,” he tried to correct the situation.
- Come on. Why didn't Mikhail Matveyevich come himself?
“He said he wanted to surprise you!” Yep, he's calling. One minute! Yes, Mikhail Matveyevich, yes, I met, I give! Igor shouted into the phone and handed me the phone. A familiar bass sounded from the speaker:
- Hello, Artyom, how are you? Didn't burp in flight? And Laptem and I have already ...
- Did you spit?
No, we are in a restaurant! Shashlik, vodyara and our hospitality are waiting for you! Come quickly to us! To drink, to get drunk, to tinker in the mud! - Misha was in his repertoire. There were two light and one dark in his voice. I vividly imagined him talking on the phone, lounging in a chair with a gigantic body. Light brown hair, slightly damp from alcohol, stuck to the forehead of not a boy, but a husband in his early thirties.
- Excuse me, I'll visit my parents first, we haven't seen each other for six months.
- No problem. But you don’t stick with the old people for a long time, otherwise we will attack without you. All! We wait! Give the phone to Igor.
After listening to the boss's valuable instructions, Igor helpfully grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and we went to the car. Going out into the street, I breathed in the frosty Ural air with pleasure. Here I am at home, okay! The driver led me to a huge black jeep and opened the door himself. Great Misha trained his employees, they go straight to the line, I thought, and flopped into the back seat. We set off.
Mikhail Makarov is my school friend, we sat at the same desk. Together they made chimneys, went on first dates together, entered institutes in one year. I'm in pedagogy, he's in polytechnic. From school, Misha was teased by "Homemade" because of his passion for design. And it was not in vain that they teased: at the age of twenty-five, he opened his own service station, then several more. Now Makarov already had a powerful business, debugged like a Swiss watch.
- Is it true that you and Mikhail Matveyevich blew up the chemistry room at school?
- It's not true, Igor, the crater remains from the explosion. And there, only the glass flew out and the cleaning lady began to stutter.
- Oh, cool! Is it true that you...
“Wait, do you know where to take me?”
- Of course, the boss told me the address, I will deliver it in the best possible way.
Squeaking wheels in the snow, the jeep drove into my yard. The native Khrushchev house was ruffled from the cold, a rocket was gray among the snowdrifts on the playground. On its side was an indisputable green inscription "VIKTOR TSOI IS LIVE!". Strange, before the inscription was blue. They update it, right?
- All the best to you!
- Thanks Igor!
Climbing up to the fifth floor, I took a breath and rang the doorbell. From the open door there was a smell of spicy spirit: mother was frying cutlets. Crossing the threshold, I shook hands with my father.
Hello, Ilya Kuzmich.
- Hello, Artyom Ilyich. He let me into the hallway and closed the door with his usual equanimity. As if I had returned from the store, and not flown for one and a half thousand kilometers.
Why didn't you call? We would set the table.
- Son, hello, my love! - Mom came to me in time with kisses. Dad accepted the coat, critically touching the thin lining.
- Lucky. A little more - and they would have missed each other!
- Where are you going?
- Let Artyom come in, Ilya, that you stuck him in the hallway! - Mom grumbled for show and disappeared into the kitchen.
In the living room, I sat on the sofa. The carpet on the wall effectively complemented the dad's story.
- I bought "last-minute trips" to Egypt. Mom wanted to see the pyramids all her life, and I wanted to smoke a real hookah.
Well, that's good for the horizon. And when will you return?
- In twelve days: ten days there, plus two days on the road. In short, one leg is here, the other is there, - my father summarized gymnastically.
- Hey! Conqueror of the East, Artyom, go eat, the cutlets are ready, - our mother called us.
What can you bring back from Egypt? she asked me at the table.
“Anything but papyrus.” And I beg you, don't ride camels...
– What is it all of a sudden?
- It's gone.
- Don't grumble. Well, for Egypt! - We clinked glasses of cognac.
An hour later, the parents rushed off to the airport, towards the Red Sea and hot sands. Somewhere in the depths of my soul I envied them. Alone at home, I'm too old for such a film. However, no one canceled the Three Musketeers format.
Hello, Misha? How are you there?
- Very decent! Wait... Hey you, in a bow tie, bring us another decanter! Only at the pace, otherwise we lose the rhythm! Hello, Artyom, how are your parents? Give them respect!
They have gone to Egypt!
- Oh, brother, you can’t do this with relatives!
- They left on their own, they wanted to see the pyramids.
“Shut up, they’re going to the East, and you’re going to Kolosok!” Do you remember where it is?
- Oh shit. Misha, this is an eatery for drunks.
“Wake up and sing, it has long been converted into a family restaurant with striptease and chillout.
- You come, you will see everything yourself, and most importantly, you will touch it!
* * *
Forty minutes later I was standing in the lobby of the Kolosok restaurant. The glass-eyed guard was looking for my last name, running his finger down the list of non grata.
- I have not been to you yet, you can not look.
- Everyone says like that. Are there weapons?
- No, what can you suggest?
- Joker? Well, well, you are welcome!
In the center of the hall, a small, about thirty people, corporate party was noisy. The toastmaster, as if descended from an advertisement for a rehabilitation center, majestically made a toast. The men cackled at the jokes from the book "Merry Feast", p. 82. In the far corner of the room, both of my friends were decorously drinking: one hundred and twenty kilos of Misha and one hundred and sixty centimeters of Seryozha. In the semi-darkness of the restaurant, I flanked them and barked, “Hands up, monogamy test!” In response, Misha elegantly choked on a salted tomato. Sergei immediately began to fight for the life of his friend: the blows of his fists fell on Makarov's back.
I already talked about Misha, now I will draw your attention to my second friend. We were introduced to Sergei Laptev by the Ural television, where Makarov and I posted a commercial for his first service station. My slogan is "The car broke down - get the stash!" Laptev called him idiotic, in response I called him a cretin. We almost got into a fight, and it grew into a strong friendship.
After television, Sergei changed a dozen jobs. On each of them, he cynically neglected the dress code: his arafatka and army boots organically complemented the image of an anti-globalist, esoteric and almost dystrophic. Short, round-shouldered, thin, Laptev was the walking personification of a midlife crisis. Brown hair gathered in a ponytail. Gray hair of a small bush of a beard. When looking at this almost thirty-five-year-old teenager, the word "planokur" naturally popped up in most people's heads, and popped up not without reason. But this did not bother Sergei in the least. And Sergei's shameless indifference was to our liking.
Finally, Misha cleared his throat:
- You can’t scare me like that, I almost gave up! - from Mikhail, ruddy from vodka, it was possible to draw the symbol of the Olympics-80. His gray-blue eyes sparkled with joy and alcohol, and a spotty blush on his cheek emphasized the heroic health. I smiled and held my arms out to the side. Makarov scooped me up like a bear.
– Penalty to our metropolitan friend! - Misha and Sergey barked, as if they had been doing that rehearsal of this phrase since our last meeting. Simultaneously exhaling air, we drank while standing and immediately ate cabbage.
Shish kebabs smoked appetizingly on the table, pickles, mushrooms and herring stood around them. Boiled potatoes turned white next to sliced cheese and sausage. A decanter of vodka erotically fogged up next to a jug of kvass. I rubbed my hands vigorously in anticipation.
“And you are doing well here.
“There is no reason for sadness, Artemon. Everyone has a crisis, but we have Christmas! Gee-gee-gee!
- This makes me happy. What did you mean when you said that Kolosok is a family restaurant with striptease?
“Serge, explain to the man the essence of pleasant changes,” Makarov announced and took up the herring.
- Everything is very simple. After nine o'clock in the evening, waitresses go topless, and dancing begins at the pylon without underwear and prejudice.
“And what time is it now?”
– The beginning of the ninth, so we have time for everything!
- Glory to the company "Glavstolinvest!!" – proclaimed the toastmaster, and the whole corporate party suddenly raised their faces from the plates.
- Hooray!! Hooray!! Hooray!!!
From this cry, we shuddered, the chandeliers swayed, and a plastic tulip from a small vase fell into my aspic. It was some kind of acoustic aggression. On top of that, Misha's phone rang.
“Quiet, this is Sveta,” Misha said either to us or to the toastmaster and for some reason stood up. - Hello, Svetik, hello to you! What? Well, I told you. Artyom has arrived. What does "the same one" mean? Yes, I am with him! Seryozha is also with us, so what?.. I warned you... Yes, I will buy onions, tomorrow, at least a whole bag! What?! Now I'm going to shove someone like that ...
I felt uncomfortable. This is what happens when you are waiting in line at the dentist, and outside the door the doctor is unsuccessfully trying to seat a screaming child in a chair. I looked at Laptev. He calmly squeezed a pickled tomato into his mouth.
- Seryoga, maybe I should talk to Sveta?
“Don’t, let the storm subside on its own.” We will not interfere with the revelry of the elements.
- Hello, Sveta, don't hang up. Svetik! St…” Misha, turning purple, sat heavily on a chair and slammed his phone on the tablecloth. His wife had the appearance of an angel and the temperament of a demon.
In order to somehow put our nerves in order, we immediately drank. Then we drank another one each, and the feast rushed along the long-trodden route. The empty decanter vanished, giving way to its brimming colleague. The toasts were shortened until they were reduced to gestures. It was nine o'clock in the evening. Busts of waitresses reminded us of dessert. Melons and apples were ordered (there were no watermelons, but in vain). Looking around, I realized that the fun had swept the restaurant like a tsunami. Tamada started arm wrestling with the director of Glavstolinvest. Subordinates obsequiously made bets on the victory of the boss. He pushed with all his might. The crimson face and the veins swollen on the forehead foreshadowed an imminent heart attack. The strippers, forgetting about the pylon, cheered for the toastmaster. Inspired by their wavering support, I raised my glass and focused my eyes on my drinking buddies.
- Friends, if you only knew how glad I am to see you! Let's drink to our glorious friendship! I get pretty damn sentimental at times. Misha and Sergei's chins trembled treacherously. We clinked glasses, knocked over and ate. What happened next, I don't remember.
* * *
I woke up from the fact that the legs that lay on me began to move. Lord, whose are they? One sock is blue, with deer, the other is black, with a hole. "Sergei," I breathed a sigh of relief. But how did we get to my house? I raised my buzzing head with difficulty. Our jackets were piled in the center of the room. Under them someone hummed: "Water, water ..." - it was Misha. Outside the window, the sun was blazing red. Dawn or sunset? Unclear. With great difficulty, I got up from the couch. My brain was beating like a heart. In the mouth, it was possible to safely carry out the Paris-Dakar race. Misha's head in Budyonovka appeared from under the jacket mountain. Are we transported back in time? I stared at my friend, unable to put the words into sentences. He broke the silence first.
“Are you going to stare at me like a ram at a new gate, or will you bring water?”
- What are you doing on the floor? - I said, although to an outsider it sounded like "Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah."
- Water! For heaven's sake, Yolkin, don't be a fascist!
- I will bring it now. How did we get to my house?
- Don't you remember?
- Bring water - you will receive information.
Raising Misha's head, I began to drink him from a glass. Makarov's teeth tapped against the glass.
- Eco has dismantled you, comrade brigade commander. Did you put a lot of whites yesterday?
- At first everything was zashib. We drank, then we drank, then we danced. By the way, you danced on the table.
- And I beat the toastmaster in the face.
- For what?
- He called Seryoga a faggot.
- A fag?!
- Something like that. Laptev dispersed the girls and began to dance at the pole.
“He’s a fag himself,” came from the couch.
- Oh, the disco dancer woke up, - Misha laughed and immediately grimaced, - Oh, oh, side! I think my rib is broken.
- And what happened then?
“Then a guard came running. Remember that asshole with the glass eye? And he started hitting me.
- And you began to blizzard him.
- Artyom, do you have a beer?
It was the owner of the deer sock who spoke again. With a hangover, Sergei despised water. Groaning, he got up from the couch and hiccupped. It took away all his strength. But Laptev gathered his will into a fist and courageously fixed me with an inquiring glance. These were not eyes, but drills. I had to answer:
- I don't have a beer.
- Then I'll go. How much will you take: three, five?
- Come on three, a stall in the yard. Money on the nightstand.
- Yes, I know. Makar, keep quiet for now, please, I'll be right back, - shuffling his feet, Sergei rushed into the hallway.
Ignoring Laptev's request, Makarov continued:
- When we were kicked out of the restaurant, we went to me, but Svetik began to throw a bow at us.
So she didn't have a bow.
- I brought.
– Where did you get it?
- I bought it in a restaurant, half a bag. Crimean, sweetie.
- Have you tried it?
- I had to. Wait, I have to go to the restroom, otherwise I'll go under myself.
With difficulty overcoming the gravity of the earth, Makarov got to his feet and fixed himself. Now he would really need a third leg to balance and stabilize. Taking unsteady steps, he set off on a journey five meters long. From everything it was clear that this grueling marathon required maximum composure from him. Tormented by curiosity, I continued to ask questions.
- And where did Budyonovka come from?
Makarov has already reached the toilet. His answers were accompanied by jets and groans.
- Ooo. Then we went to the bathhouse for healing and prevention of colds. Seryozha and I jumped into the pool, and you closed the attendant in the steam room.
- So why were you silent? Gotta go open!
- Late. Oh-oh-oh, how good.
- He broke the door. I had to make a fuss, he gave Budyonovka for change. Felt, absorbs moisture well.
- Yeah, cool, we annealed it yesterday. Don't say anything.
- And everything is Svetka! Twisted me like a kid ... - the sound of the drained water drowned out the next words. - Right now, I'll call her and stuff it like that! It will be a week to drink validol! Give me the phone, otherwise my sat down.
The independence of Mikhail's judgments about the family structure grew in direct proportion to the distance between him and his beloved wife. When Svetik was not around, Makarov was a brutal male, a kind of symbol of sexism and intolerance towards the feminine. But as soon as Svetlana appeared on the horizon, the armor of God cracked like old paint on the walls of a beer stall.
- Hello, Svetulya! Listen, I'm sorry, my love, that I was like that yesterday ... Yes ... Yes, I didn't do it on purpose! Why are you starting right now? Ah, that's it! Check yourself three times! You yourself went! We're not flying anywhere! Fly yourself. On a green broom! And wherever you want, everything, I do not care! What?! Yes, you know where to go? - after these words, Misha slammed the phone against the wall with a flourish. The wall turned out to be stronger, and the phone went into a “very heavily used” condition.
- It's necessary! No one has ever cussed me like that! He warmed a toad on his chest ... Why are you sad all of a sudden?
Actually, it was my phone.
“Spit, I’ll buy you a new one.” Do you want me to break mine?
- Uh-uh, Misha. No need…
Fuck! The number of broken phones in my apartment has doubled.
Makarov, are you out of your mind? It was my phone! - Sergei floated out of the hallway. - There was even money in the account!
- Yes? And don't care, and I'll buy you a new one. So, where's my phone?
"I'll tell you, just don't hit him." Artyom, how do you open the lock on the door? Clockwise?
- Haven't you left yet?
– And how will you leave here if everything is walled up for you?
- The keys are in the hallway.
No, I've been looking. And I broke a shoehorn along the way.
How have you not broken your head yet? Look in the jacket.
- Where is she?
- "Where where". In the mound under which this phone killer slept.
Laptev went up to a pile of jackets in the middle of the room and began to rummage through it. Perfected movements betrayed a lover of second-hand in Sergey. Finally, he found my jacket and, with a pleased grunt, put his hand in his pocket. Suddenly, his face took on a soft ashy hue.
- What's happened?
“Artyom, you’ve got something there, round, wet and nasty.”
- Let's watch.
- Guys, maybe not? Let's burn the jacket, and that's it, shall we?
- Misha, give you free rein, you will rattle everything here.
- Decide quickly, otherwise I'll be sick now.
- Get it.
Slowly, like a sapper, Sergei pulled a clenched fist out of his jacket.
- Open up.
- I can't, my fingers cramped.
Little by little, finger by finger, we opened the fist of our faint-hearted friend. The glass eye of the guard lay in the palm of his hand. There was condemnation in his eyes.
– Yes, Artyom, the capital hardened you. When did you do it like that?
- I don’t remember, even crack!
“Memory always replaces the worst. I'll go and wash my hands. Do you have chlorine?
The bell rang and we looked at each other.
- All right, it's behind us. They’ll solder us for beautiful eyes, I can’t do it myself, ”Seryoga said in an otherworldly voice.
- No, it's my mobile. Did not sit down, it turns out! - Mikhail immediately fished out a beeping phone from his night lair.
- Yes, Svetulya, yes, dear ... A. Hello, Zinaida Afanasyevna. No, everything is fine with Svetochka. I don't know why she is crying. Maybe I watched a sad movie... Well, let me explain to you: yesterday I celebrated my arrival with my friends... What? Yes, how did you just turn your tongue ?! Yes... You know what! You yourself are the most!!!
In the jump, like a real goalkeeper, Sergei barely managed to catch Makarov's pipe. We needed connection.
- This su ... Zinaida Afanasyevna this! It's not in vain that she is her mother, oh, not in vain! Well, now we definitely won’t fly to Thailand. Let them sit at home, by the window, staring at the snowdrifts.
- Misha, what kind of trip?
- Yes, they wanted to take my mother-in-law to Thailand for the New Year. Exotic and all. Booked tickets, hotels, excursions. Where to now? All down the drain!
Laptev and I exchanged knowing glances. On the one hand, vacation with mother-in-law. On the other hand, in the dead of winter, to escape from the snow and frost under the rays of the tropical sun and, without caring about anything, lie down on a sun lounger under a palm tree, sipping a cocktail through a straw... eyes with the palm of his hand, peered into the bright green jungle that surrounded the airport.
- Yes, it's a pity that such an adventure is lost ...
It's warm in Thailand right now.
- Yes, it's always warm there, uh-heh-heh ...
Glancing over our sour faces, Makarov uttered a phrase that we did not even hope to hear:
- Listen, guys, let's go to Thailand. Threesome, huh?
Anton Lirnik
Three in Thailand, not counting dogs
As I write this foreword, the book is not finished yet. But, as soon as the text is ready, in this place there will appear a confidential and not devoid of self-irony appeal of the author to the readers. In which I will report that the book, they say, is the first, and, they say, do not judge strictly. And I will say "thank you" to everyone who needs to say "thank you". And I assure everyone else that the work has nothing to do with real people and businesses. And I'm happy to note that the book is designed for a wide readership. And finally, I will express the hope that everyone will like my modest creation: both those who laugh out loud while watching The Hangover in Vegas, and those who quietly chuckle while rereading Three Men in a Boat. And I will add that I dedicate my book to the author of the last work. Thank you for my happy childhood, dear Jerome K. Jerome!
Anton Lirnik, autumn 2013
Chapter first,
in which the reader will get to know the main characters of this story, learn the true joy of meeting old friends, and at the same time feel all the destructive impact of such meetings on the fragile human body
Vasily Ivanovich, enough, don't play around! - My heels continued to tickle inexorably, I tried my best not to laugh. But then a claw sank into his leg. It was too much. I threw slippers at Vaska, and the cat darted offendedly under the table. I got up from the couch and stretched sweetly. The gray Moscow morning slowly crept in through the window.
It's good that I didn't get drunk yesterday. New Year's corporate parties are an insidious thing. First, everyone makes a toast in honor of the director. An hour later, they begin to dance to Serduchka. Then they famously play twister, stepping on ties and dress hems with their hands. Then the speeches become shorter, the glasses fuller, and the ladies get prettier every minute. In the morning you find yourself in the caretaker's closet with the chief accountant's bra in your pocket. This time I restrained myself, drank little - took care of the liver. I won't lie, it was boring. In addition, the pretty office manager Nina, offended by my restraint, went to hiccup on the shoulder of the deputy director. But for the time being, a not weak collection of compromising evidence lurked in the mobile phone.
Outside the window the metropolis was buzzing, Muscovites hobbled to work. And my New Year holidays have already begun. Our director is a great connoisseur of human souls. He let everyone go for a walk since December 24th. So after lunch I was going to fly to my native Yekaterinburg. After taking a shower and a cup of coffee, I scooped up a crop of washed socks from the radiator and began to pack. The doorbell rang.
Artyom, what is better to feed Vasya: liver or kidneys? - asked the neighbor Klavdia Stepanovna. The former ballerina entered my bachelor pad with well-practiced grace.
Through times, only strongly not indulge. Last time he got so drunk on your diet that he jumped on my chest and nearly broke my ribs. The old woman chuckled mischievously.
So are you flying home? When will you be back?
I don’t know yet, - I answered, putting things into my bag, - you can’t guess with my friends.
I do remember. How did they sing when they flew in that winter?
- “Misha from Seryozha got in the face!”
Yeah. Seryozha - which one is small? Good boy, so polite. - An elderly neighbor, due to naivety, took Serezhin's state of smokyness for politeness.
Well, let's hit the road!
With mournful faces, we sat down on chairs, I picked up the cat.
Vasily Ivanovich, you remain in charge. Do not be rude to Claudia Stepanovna, do not drive cats, watch yourself and your country!
Two hours later I was already entering the airport building. In my gradation of transport hubs, the airport certainly ranks first. The airport is not at all like the noisy railway stations and shed-type bus stations smelling of beggars and pasties. Everything in it is solemn: the passengers, and the planes, and the piles of gray troughs in front of the frame, and the hair of the stewardesses, forever pulled together by something at the back of their heads. I boarded the plane and sat in my rightful seat 16D. Like all passengers, my face took on a majestic expression. This happens to everyone who is involved in the process, but not involved in its implementation. The chair next to me was still empty. I hoped that the "mysterious stranger" would take him. Of course, such fantasies are somewhat silly for a thirty-two-year-old, albeit unmarried, man.
Excuse me, is this location 16E? - the stranger, slightly narrowing her eyes, looked at the numbers on the panels. Under the fur coat was a short, tight-fitting dress just above the knees. Around the neck is a light scarf. The image of a fellow traveler was complemented by mother-of-pearl lipstick on slightly swollen lips and the alluring smell of perfume. My inner hussar grinned and mentally twirled his mustache.
Have a seat, please, let me pack your bag!
Thanks bro, I'll pack my bag! - because of the girl materialized the second neighbor. Before the build of Gerard Depardieu, he lacked three hundred grams. However, he has already accepted two hundred of them. It’s good that Yekaterinburg is only a couple of hours away. The girl slipped to the window, and the big man with difficulty squeezed himself into the chair between us. I felt the first bout of aerophobia.
I'm lazy, give me a flask. Well, let's take a sip, shall we? - The second phrase was meant for me.
Thanks, I'm going to my parents. I don't want to upset my mother.
Mom is sacred! For parents! - said the bumpkin and thoroughly kissed the flask.
* * *Smooth landing. While I applauded along with the rest of the passengers, my neighbor enthusiastically snored out the window. His secretary (for his wife she was too accommodating) waged another bird-pig war on the phone. At Koltsovo airport, everyone immediately rushed to the luggage millstones. My suitcase crawled out first, and I went out into the waiting room with a feeling of deep moral satisfaction. Where I immediately saw a red-haired boy with a YOLKIN sign in his upper limbs. Smiling taxi drivers crowded around him.
Hey, are you meeting me?
Artyom Yolkin?
He is.
God bless. Otherwise, these hamadryas have been teasing me with "Palkin" for five minutes.
I know I didn't hear that at school.
My name is Igor, Mikhail Matveyevich ordered to meet you, - Igor spoke to me at the same time and looked into the paper, which he clutched in his hand.
Is that your welcome speech?
No, it was Mikhail Matveyevich who described you, just in case.
Let me see, - snatching a piece of paper out of Igor's hands, I began to read my orientation. “Brunette, medium height, small belly, brown eyes. Elegant, as he thinks, stubble. I raised my brown eyes to Igor.
Anna
Konstantin
nikolay
Andrey
Dmitry Lazarev
Julia
starikov
Tatiana
Oleg Lazhechnikov
Kachubey
Ekaterina Batova
