Passport
So this one deserves its own post.
On Saturday morning, we left for a weekend in Pskov (more on that later). Anyone who knows me knows that I am late for fucking EVERYTHING. That morning, I decided that for once in my life, I was not going to be late. I pulled an all-nighter. I left my apartment at 7 even though the bus wasn’t leaving until 8. I was SO PLEASED with myself. Showed up to the meeting point around 7:20, bought some water from the продукты across the street, chilled with people for a while. Just generally feeling super proud of myself.
Around 7:45, we boarded the bus. As I settled in for a nap, I heard one of my comrades jokingly yell, “Everyone have their passport?”
…
…
…
…no. Nope. But thanks for asking.
Thus ensued a 25 minute sprint. At 8 in the morning. On no sleep and an empty stomach. Wearing jeans and boots and (sorry Dad) a regular non-sports bra. Down Nevsky Prospekt.
If you ever wanted to know how to look like a tourist in Russia, sprinting down Nevsky with an American passport in hand is a PRETTY DAMN GOOD WAY TO DO IT.
We were only like 15 minutes late leaving, which is pretty par for the course anyway, but man did I feel like a schmuck.
