The three drunkards and the scotch-experience Taking the train to Russia was a bit of an experience! Most of the Russians come in groups by bus, so the ones travelling by train, are the poorest, most hardcore ones. At seven in the morning, there were about fifty, sixty of them, with maybe ten HUGE bags each, filled with goods to sell back home. A good deal of them had already had their dose of morning-vodka, and I somehow happened to attract the drunkest of them. At the train one man with a strange nose, that sort of hung down at one side, sat down beside me. He had tattoos everywhere (which in Russia is a sort of cast-mark that you have been to prison), while his comrade, who had only half an ear on the right
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