Port taverns are places where you can meet sailors from all over the world. These taverns are their refuge, a place where they can drink to excess without fear of being labelled alcoholics. Sailors of all nationalities sing in these taverns, their voices sounding like the wind in the rigging.
One rainy November evening, the ‘Big Tits Tavern’ was noisy. A cowboy bellowed in baritone from the TV screen, and the air was thick with the smells of beer and cigarette smoke, interspersed with laughter and the clinking of glasses.
Lekha Chuguev, the second mate, was sipping Mexican vodka behind the bar. His ship was moored at the pier, unloading cargo. Having handed over the watch to the first mate, he had the whole night to himself. It was wet night outside, but it was warm inside and Lekha was among his own people. He didn’t want to go anywhere.
A man sat down on the bar stool next to him. Evidently in a good mood, he sang along to the cowboy on TV and ordered three shots of tequila with pink grapefruit. He lined up the glasses in a row and began cutting the fruit into thin slices.
Lekha squinted at his strange neighbour. No one ordered drinks like that; people usually drank one glass and then asked for a refill. He caught a familiar accent in his neighbour’s purring.
“I knew it,” Lekha winked at him.. They clinked glasses and toasted their acquaintance. It turned out that the man was Russian and introduced himself as Greg or Grigory.
He smiled when Lekha asked him about the three glasses.
‘I lived in Mexico for several years, where the locals taught me how to drink tequila properly,’ he explained. “You put a piece of grapefruit on your tongue, sip the tequila through your teeth and enjoy the citrus. Red grapefruit gives tequila a special flavor, and the effect of the alcohol on your brain is very mild. The drink is called a ‘tequila sandwich,’ and if you want to have fun with friends but still keep a clear head so you don’t do anything stupid, it’s perfect!‘As for the three glasses, I never drink less than that, so I order all three at once,’ he pushed the plate with grapefruit slices towards Lekha, inviting him to test.
“It’s common knowledge that alcohol depletes our vitamin C levels and that the sugar in alcohol clogs the blood vessels. It gets you drunk quickly, and the next morning you have a headache and shaky hands,” he continued, smiling, “and tequila is good because it’s made from agave juice, which contains no sugar. Or almost none. There are many kinds of tequila. Of course, there is the surrogate. But if the label on the bottle says ‘100% agave’, it’s good to drink. Pink grapefruit contains more vitamin C than any other fruit. It’s called ‘ruby red’. This citrus fruit replenishes vitamin C loss and keeps your head clear. It’s a great addition to any drink,” Greg added, finishing his second drink and taking a slice of grapefruit with his knife.
Lekha smiled as he recalled an incident. He had once met a Russian IT worker in a bar who had secured a position with an American company. Russians wear American jeans, celebrate American holidays such as Halloween and pepper their speech with American slang. They mock America, yet they all dream of living there. This guy had a comb-over, tattoos, and chains. He didn’t realise he was overdoing it. He looked like a monkey who had stood up on his hind legs but forgotten to hide his tail.
The IT guy acted defiantly, knowing that in a normal country, he wouldn’t be bothered for wearing such an outfit. He sipped tequila from a glass and licked salt from his hand defiantly.
Lekha couldn’t help himself:
‘Americans drink tequila like that?’
‘Yes, they do!’ the man boasted. ‘Lick, drink, lick…’
Tequila has recently become fashionable in Russia. However, it is still typically enjoyed alongside dumplings, pickles, and sausages. Traditions of the ancestors.
***
They drank tequila, sucked sweet and sour grapefruit and ate roasted pistachios. They talked about politics, the decline of Christian morality, emigration and emancipation. As with all conversations between men, theirs eventually turned to the exoticism of M&W relationships. The strangers who don’t know each other aren’t usually very talkative about this subject. Every couple has skeletons in their closet. But this was either a chance meeting or the rain outside. Or maybe it was the tequila that loosened their tongues.
‘I once had an affair with a Russian girl,‘ said Greg, playing with his third empty glass. The bartender reacted immediately.
‘She was a damn good-looking girl. And she told me it was hard to find a husband there because of all the drunks. So she married a Jew who took her to America. She had a son with him, and then they split up. For some reason, a lot of young couples who come to America from the former Soviet Union end up getting divorced,’ he said, shrugging.
‘Anyway, we had an affair,’ he continued. ‘We spent our days by the sea and our nights getting drunk. She was fun and quite intelligent, and she was good at everything. I couldn’t live without her – I missed her when she wasn’t around. Women probably like gentle rapists; they see them as tamed wild animals. I was that way too. I protected her as a man would protect his woman. I’ve thought about us living together, and she’s hinted at it too…”
Greg fell silent and stared out the window at the pouring rain. From the look on his face, Lekha realized that mentioning this woman had hit a memory. So he remained silent too.
‘But one time she really got on my nerves,’ Greg said after a pause.
‘I caught her at night rummaging through my wallet, my credit cards and checking files on my computer. She thought I was asleep, but I was watching her unnoticed. Anyway, after that, I decided to test her. I pretended to be sad for a few days, and then I told her that my business had failed and I was close to bankruptcy. I asked her for a hundred bucks. I also stopped our restaurants.’
‘After a week, I returned her money and she disappeared immediately. She didn’t answer my calls for a long time and then she sent me a short message. She frankly and cynically explained that she was looking for a rich man, with whome she can fill herself behind the stone wall. So all her loving words before were a game,’ Greg grinned wryly.
‘A year went by like that. I remembered our nights together and that was hurting me..’ He played with his glass. ‘It’s a big city, but if you go to the same places regularly, people there recognize you. I’ve been told she was seeing with some others,’ he smiled.
‘Meanwhile, things were going well for me,‘ Greg continued. “I bought out my partner’s share and became the sole owner of the transport company. I sort of forgot about her, but one day I couldn’t resist writing to her to brag about how I’d got out of trouble. I mentioned that I had rented an expensive apartment in a posh neighbourhood and was thinking of buying it back from the owner.’
She immediately called back: “Greg, I’ve been alone all year. I was scared at the time, but eventually I came to my senses…’
‘She played again,’ Greg smiled. ‘And in that moment, I realized that she had just helped me to get rid of a sad memories.’ I told her that I was busy with work and didn’t have time for restaurants. I added that I’m not a wall builder, but work in a different field. Then I hung up…’
***
It was after midnight. Lekha was pretty drunk and made his way to the ship on autopilot.
He felt fine the next morning though, so Greg’s recipe must have worked!
The following night, he met two women in a bar, and the three of them shared a bottle of tequila in his cabin. The three of them then slept in the same bunk. Now that was a sandwich!
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