I have two big worries. The first is Americans destroying my unique Russian culture, and the second is the Chinese overrunning my country's land. Americans make my people celebrate holidays that my grandfather has never heard of, and the Chinese are slowly conquering us with their evil technologies, their cheap goods and their dog-meat-based foodstuffs.
Let's start with the American holiday imperialism. As a real man I hate any romantic holidays where I am supposed to give gifts to some girl. I hardly understand why Russians bother celebrating a day when some Catholic was tortured to death as if it's the most romantic day of the year. Maybe if you're American or German, fine, but why should we Russians concern ourselves with it?
Thank God that my Moldovan girlfriend Katya knows nothing about St. Valentine's Day, so I'm not obliged to give her any stupid gifts. And yet she's learning quickly by living here in Moscow. Late in the evening this past February 14th, Katya sent me a text saying she just learned that today is "lover's day," so she sent me a kiss and said all sorts of cheesy things to me. At least she didn't find out about it until later in the day. All of my former girlfriends went into hysterics if I didn't perform special tricks for them on this day or bring them piles of jewelry.
Anyway, Katya's message arrived just as I was on my way to a very special event with my old buddy Alexei. The days when we were selling chocolate back in the early 90s are gone and now he works for the Moscow City Government. With his connections, red ksiva and special license plates, he never has to deal with traffic jams while cruising his black 5-series BMW. It was Thursday evening and we were on the fast lane heading towards the Paveletsky train station area, looking to hit TEN' club.
You won't find this club listed in many places. You really don't see clubbers out in this remote district, which is home to all sorts of illegal car services, garages with stolen cars or warehouses with Chinese goods. Alexei explained to me that a Moscow Duma senator owns this club and uses it sometimes to host special events or concerts.
I wondered what sorts of special events he can hold in this ghetto but Alexei said not to ask, and he promised that I'll see it all with my own eyes in a few minutes.
As soon as we parked his BMW a few meters from the VIP entrance, I was amazed. In Diaghilev parking in a choice spot like this would cost $2,000, but now that it's burned down, these parking opportunities disappeared in the club's clouds of smoke.
We entered the party through the right door, the one with the VIP sign on it, and I was pleasantly surprised to learn that we'd come to a "Moscow youth party" organized by the Moscow City Committee of Youth Affairs.
"Wow! Sounds promising!" I imagined tables full of sturgeon, black caviar, roasted pigs and beautiful lolitas offering themselves up. Alexei crushed my dreams saying we can get all that later in a restaurant. Here we were on strict business--to see people, the future of Russia.
Whatever, dude. Let's rock! What I can say is that the hope of Russia looked young, very young. I figured that most of these party animals were allowed to stay out only till about 10 pm. There were fresh and young bodies all around me, so much so that I felt like a pedophile. Later, the word "biomaterial" came to my mind.
I was surprised to see that there were also young gays wearing their first tight jeans and tops. Jeez! These guys are just 13 or 14 years old and they're already gay? Or want to look like they are? It must be the influence of American culture with its "gay is okay" concept they teach in their schools.
Inside the gloomy dance floor (basically the only real space in the club besides the entrance) there was a giant screen washing the young minds inside by showing them happy low-res images of men serving for the army or doing other social chores for their Motherland. While the young were spending their parents' money on their first vodkas and beers, the older Committee members were enjoying the party from the top balconies overseeing the pubescent crowd below.