Creepy Feckers I: Pasha and the Pervy Babooshka

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These stories generally end with me weeping internally and praying that the person leaves on their own accord.

People tend to come up and start talking to me and I'm not entirely sure why. It might be because I normally smile at people, regardless of whether I know them or not. Many of the people who come up and start talking to me are genuinely lovely people who are just curious or fancy a chat. Eccentricity doesn't bother me.

Pasha and the Pervy Babooshka were not eccentrics, they were really, really creepy.



I met Pasha in a bar when I was living in Tver, not far from Moscow. The bar was on the main street, not far from our lodgings, and the group that went consisted mainly of the Scots, French and Finns that were studying in the international department of the university. I'm not sure if there was a reason or occasion for all of us to be out drinking rather than drinking in one of the flats but we were drinking; vodka, of course, and after finishing each bottle we ordered another.

I became aware of Pasha when one of the other girls who had escaped him pointed him out. He had bought drinks for the table. He would talk to someone, they would make an excuse to leave, and he would move on to the next. By the time he got round to me he was pretty drunk and looked severely depressed. He spoke reasonable English, and introduced himself to me. I said hello back.

"I was a sniper in Russian army."

"Oh, wow! that must have been interesting."

"I was in Chechnya."

"..."

"I did things."

"...Right..."

"I just want someone to talk to."

"..."

"I just want a wife."

"..."

I remember making a slurry suggestion that he should talk to a professional, but don't remember anything else he said. I would, however, like to take this opportunity to thank the French guys who came to my rescue and whisked me off. Pasha left the bar a little bit later (probably after exhausting every possibility).





I met the Pervy Babooshka (old lady) on a train from St Petersburg to Tver, with my flatmate. We were in Plaskarti (3rd class, bunkbeds, about 50-60 people to a carriage), lying down on the top bunks. We were chatting happily until the old Russian lady beneath my friend started talking to me in Russian.

Firstly, she asked if I was American, I told her I was British. she asked lots of questions, name (which she described as 'exotic', a word I had never heard used for my name before), where I was from, where was I going, what did I do, the usual and fairly standard questions I was able to answer comfortably.

Next she garbled something, I had no idea what she was saying, but she stood up and started stroking my arm, telling me I was beautiful. She asked if I wanted some vodka, beer, or cigarettes. I said no. She asked if I wanted to go to the toilets with her. I said no (and cried on the inside). I told her I was tired and wanted to sleep, and she disappeared off down the carriage to somewhere else.

But that wasn't the last I saw of the Pervy Bab. When we got off the train at Tver we crossed under the tracks and went out to find a taxi. It was past midnight and the tram had already stopped. We flagged down a taxi and climbed in. The Bab got into the front with the driver and told him that she was our friend, he should drive her home first and we would pay.

That was possibly the most awkward taxi ride I have ever been on.

Oh, well. We live and learn: don't smile at people; you only have yourself to blame.

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Comments

[Charlotte]

Funniest Part..
After reading all of this and chuckling away to myself. The part that really "Split my sides" was your later references to the creepy lady as 'Pervy Bab' and 'The Bab'.... 'The Bab' sounds very interesting,.. I'm surprised you didn't take her up on her very swarve toilet offer. She sounds like a hotty from your words. *cough cough*