honky cracker: Altai, I Wanna Die. We sat on the schoolhouse steps for hours enduring the undying heat of the Siberian summer sun. I remember dragging my ass out of bed very, very early because I couldn't miss the bus that was supposed to take me to some "surprise place". Rumor had it the Russians were taking us camping somewhere that Americans were never allowed to go. So there we were, nine Americans and a boatload of Russians, bleary eyed and restless waiting for the Magic Bus.
Somebody brought along a boom box and some Phish CDs. Now, personally, I can't stand Phish. But there was nothing else to do. So I let some people tie a bandana around my head and I jumped around like a hippie. Of course the fun in that wore off rather quickly, and I returned to moping over on the schoolhouse steps.
Finally, at some point that day, the Russian Army showed up -- guns and all -- to take us away.
Great. We're in Siberia of all places. The Russian army is taking us away to an undisclosed destination, and whatever's going to happen there is kept secret from us. There are armed officers, large vehicles, and gee, is that a stash of blindfolds I see?
"Oh crap. They're going to kill us."
This was 1993. I'm sixteen years old and I'm thinking: "Okay. The Russian communist regime had been ousted only a few short years prior to this and the country's government was in chaos. Certainly, there must be some delusional Russian general out there who never stopped hating Americans after the cold war ended. It's only logical that this mad Russian general had orchestrated the entire trip so that he could kill a bunch of young American students, thus creating international outrage and microwaving up the cold war leftovers. Infact, I think I see him in front of me right now. Yup. That's him. With the gun. And the blindfolds."
The Russian army herded us all into a big ol' bus. No one said a word. We just sat there, nervous as hell, not knowing what was going.
After about forty five minutes of driving, the bus pulled over to the side of some rocky dirt road.
"Ladies and gentlemen" our translator announced "You are now headed to a top secret Russian military base, and as foreigners, you are not allowed to know where it is. Therefore, we must blindfold you all until we reach our destination."
Oh fuck.
Somebody tied a blindfold around me eyes. Thankfully, they did not ask me to put my hands behind my head and kneel. At least, not yet.
After another 20 minutes or so of driving, the bus stopped. I felt a cold hand touch me on the shoulder, and that was it. I was going to die. Gunshot in the head. Right there. Goodbye, cruel world.
But he didn't shoot me in the head. Actually, he removed my blindfold and led me off the bus.
The bus had stopped in what looked like the middle of nowhere. It was just a big, open, empty field with one gigantic air strip running through it. There were lots guys with guns there, too, but I suppose that's to be expected. You know, with the place being a top secret Russian military base and all.
Understandably, my fellow Americans and I were in a bit of a haze. We just sort of wandered around in our bandanas patiently waiting the wait out. Some of the American girls took the opportunity to flirt with the Russian guys.
I had cultivated a large crush on some girl at that point in the trip. To tell you the truth, I'm not entirely sure who it was, because I was sixteen and pretty much developed at least one new crush a day. But on that particular day, I think I was crushing on Anastasia -- or Nastia, as she liked to be called. Ugh, what a horrible nickname. But what an illustrious young woman. Okay, really the only illustrious thing about her was the fact that she was tall, blonde, and extremely hot -- and the fact that she paraded around in next to nothing didn't hurt, either. (In time she would earn the nickname "Soft Taco", but that's another story.) Maybe it was because I, full of self-doubt and sixteen-year old insecurities, was intimidated by her. Maybe it was because I thought she just didn't like me. Or maybe it was because she just didn't speak English that well. Whatever the reason, I just could not flirt with this girl. I tried, I think, but every time I'd try I'd just get frustrated with myself or whatever.
Anyways, I couldn't flirt with her then because she was too busy cozying up to the big, strapping young Russian army men. Argh! I was tired. I was parched. I was hungry. And I thought I was about to die a few moments ago. I was not happy.
After about an hour, the Russian army plane was ready for take off. So we all got on this plane, again with no idea where the hell they were taking us. Nothing about the plane ride was all that remarkable, except for the fact that Nastia was putting her head on various male Russian laps -- further provoking my bitterness and jealousy.
The flight lasted a little over an hour, when we landed on yet another airstrip in the middle of nowhere. We got off the plane, and then were ushered into a Russian army helicopter. The helicopter flew around for who knows how long, darting left and right, nearly flipping over. The pilot was having a grand old time. Me, I just wanted to throw up.
The copter landed in someplace known as the Altai region. I had always thought the Altai were mountains, but there were no mountains in sight. Just a big grassy field the middle of the woods, and a giant lake covered in what appeared to be cappuccino foam.
Also, the Altai region was damn loud. I wish I could describe the noise, but I can't. It sounded something like really loud guitar feedback, but at a lower pitch. At first I couldn't figure out what the heck the noise was.
Then I took two steps into the Altai. Immediately, I discovered two things: 1) what the noise was and 2) what that cappuccino-looking stuff on the lake was.
Mosquitoes. Big ones. Block out the sun big. And lots of them. Block out the sun lots.
Ugh. I had woken up very early that day, only to sit around for hours waiting for a bus that seemingly never came. Once on that bus, I thought I was going to be shot and killed. When I realized that, indeed, I would survive, I got to watch the girl I have a crush on stick her head in many laps -- none of which were mine. I hadn't eaten. I didn't drink a glass of water all day. The mosquitoes were eating me alive. I wished that the Russian army actually had shot me in the head.
I spied Ro-Dogg sitting alone off in the distance. I walked over to him.
