Things I've Done That Probably Weren't That Smart - Part One

Ever have one of those experiences that seemed like a great idea at the time and then you look back on it and think to yourself, WTF? Yeah, that's happened to me. A lot. Some of those times have been on my mind lately and I thought they might be good for a laugh. I promise I'm not making any of this up. My life is, on frequent occasion, stranger than fiction.

Dinner with the Russian Mafia

I would advise not attempting this on your own.

In May of 2003, we were stationed in Germany, and Chris was deployed to Kosovo for 10 months. A couple of crazy friends (you know who you are) and I decided to fly out and meet the guys in Sofia, Bulgaria for a 4-day R&R weekend. You may think that in itself is worthy of a WTF moment, but not really. It wasn't so bad. And yes, before you ask, we did manage to see more than just the inside of the hotel room.

The first night we all went out and consumed various strange meats on a stick (duck heart among them) and drank margaritas which I now suspect were made with pure grain alcohol. Where we ended up that night is far from where we started, but that is another story and I will NEVER TALK.

Anyway. The next night happened to be our third anniversary. Chris and I decided we wanted to celebrate by having dinner in an authentic Bulgarian restaurant so we could soak up some culture of the non-alcoholic variety. The six of us had hired a private taxi driver/tour guide for the weekend, so we asked him for some recommendations. He said he knew the perfect place and we hopped in the taxi and took off into the city. A word of advice. When traveling in a taxi (or bus or trolley car or any form of transportation) in Eastern Europe, close your eyes and pray. Do not look at the road. Do not look at the other cars. Do not try to figure out the traffic rules. Just pray. Hard. In as many languages as you know.

We ended up in a rundown section of Sofia in front of what looked to be an abandoned building. Not a good sign. Two very large men in dark suits met us at the curb. They were armed. Again, not a good sign. The taxi driver told us to go with these men, and when we were ready to leave they would call him and escort us back to the car. He told us that under no circumstances were we to leave before he came for us, and to not wait on the street alone.

Great.

We suddenly found ourselves at night in a rundown section of city in a country that was very recently communist, with only Boris and Ivan and their various pieces of hardware for company. Since we pretty much had no choice, we followed the two giants down a set of concrete stairs toward a ratty looking door. At this point, the thoughts in my head were all centered around one thing: We are SO gonna die. Well that, and the fact that I really shouldn't have worn heels. It would have been easier to attempt an escape. The door opened into....a truly fabulous gypsy-themed restaurant. It was huge and beautifully decorated and obviously doing very well. A waiter led us to a private table that was partially concealed in the bones of an old wooden gypsy wagon. It was fantastic. The food was delicious, the service was impeccable and it was truly an experience. There were also several other tables like ours that were filled with groups of very rich looking men who appeared to be conducting quiet business. The kind of business that you obviously needed to conduct in the basement of an abandoned building at night. Surrounded by armed guards.

After a floor show featuring traditional gypsy dancers we told the waiter we were ready to go. He called over our personal bodyguards, one of whom pulled out a cell-phone and called our driver. A few minutes later we were led out to the street and put safely in the taxi and driven back to our hotel. One thing was for sure. Bulgarians may drive like crazy people but I certainly wasn't going to be critiquing this guy's skills any time soon. Talk about connections.

The entire night held an air of the surreal. Probably because it was surreal and stuff like that just doesn't happen to regular people. On the ride back I kept looking at Chris and wondering, did that really just happen? Did I inadvertently drink another one of those battery acid margaritas and I am now hallucinating?

To this day, I think back on that very strange night and shake my head while asking myself a great big WTF!?