Domodedovo met … as always! To understand where in this anthill is what? – you have to work here!
A married couple rushed past me, almost knocking me off my feet, rattling my suitcases. They ran in the crowd like flies in butter and scattered in different directions, then met again at the same place. And the man said something bright and emotional. But they ended up going in the direction the woman was running.
I grinned and, clutching my small suitcase tighter, went in search of any of the airport staff.
Inside, the airport was a nominal post-bombing market. They sold everything from food and newspapers, which was reasonable, to various appliances, which was surprising.
And here's the best part, if you ask a vendor anything, he doesn't know anything. Not even where the nearest toilet is! Before asking him, you need to buy something to jog his memory, so to speak. Unfortunately, the prices in Domodedovo were as if only millionaires used the airport's services. But the airport staff could not be seen at a glance. Probably, they shyly dissolved among travelers hoping to join the group flying, say, to Kanye.
I had to get to the VIP lounge. That's where Andrew was waiting for me, holding my ticket, salary and work book.
The phone call came at the moment when I noticed the local guard and was about to catch up with him. I pulled out my phone and answered it without looking:
" I forgot to tell you exactly which hall I'll be waiting for you in."
I blinked, realizing belatedly that I had answered Andrew 's call. I should still look at the phone before answering in a disgruntled tone.
" Isn't he alone? " I was sincerely surprised.
VIP lounges are usually used either by business class passengers or participants of any programs, from the category – "fly a hundred times super economy class and get one VIP lounge dinner".
" Uh, uh… What floor are you on? " He asked me with a hesitation.
I was embarrassed, although, it would seem, how could I know about the number of VIP lounges in airports?
" The first."
" Great. From the main entrance, turn left, go straight, straight, straight, straight, straight until you see the sign. Can you handle it?"
" Of course," I replied, slightly perplexed.
Judging by his tone and the way he explained it, he had already joined the bar. However, it finally became clear to me where to go. The main thing was that I didn't have to turn anywhere, otherwise I would have gotten lost.
I got to the desired place quickly, but before the entrance to the hall there was a small hitch. I was blocked by a guard who asked me if I had a ticket. And the ticket had to be a business class ticket. In fact, I didn't have any.
" My boss has the ticket, I'm a secretary," I said cheerfully.
" Secretary? And the director of the company has the ticket? " The guard asked incredulously.
I sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Usually it's just the opposite, the secretary has the tickets, passes, minty motion sickness pills and bags if the pills don't help. I had to pull out my phone and call Andrew , not to argue with the guard, proving that the tickets were ordered much earlier than I was employed!
" Are you Rina? " asked one of the waitresses and, after waiting for my confused "Yes", continued: " I'll show you to your table."
I exhaled with relief and smiled gratefully at the girl. Trying not to look at the confused guard, I followed her.
Andrew was sitting at a corner table, in front of him there was one glass and an almost finished bottle of whiskey. The man himself was already quite tipsy. I greeted him once more in surprise and sat down carefully.
" I hate flying," the boss confided.
I blinked in surprise, not expecting such a confession from a man. Everyone I'd known before had been desperately brave or angry, but they'd never admitted their weakness.
Andrew filled the glass. I managed to move forward and cover it with my hand, preventing him from drinking. A little more would definitely keep us off the plane. According to the rules, the crew has the right to deny boarding to people who are intoxicated or not only intoxicated, but also behaving inappropriately. And who's to say that a man who's just drinking doesn't throw a tantrum before the gangway? Or do the rules not apply to millionaires?
" No need to continue, we're about to board," I muttered.
Andrew suddenly nodded in agreement and moved the glass away from you. Encouraged, I called the waitress and ordered two coffees. In the remaining forty minutes you should try to put him in order.
For that, I'd have to feed him.
" What's our flight? " I asked.
Andrew slid an envelope to me. As I expected, the envelope contained our tickets, hotel reservations and, most pleasantly, the transfer. So, if he doesn't hold back and gets completely drunk on the plane, I won't have to worry about how to get him to the hotel.
" Anything else? " the waitress asked, setting our coffees down in front of us.
" If I could get something to eat, we would have less than forty minutes to board.
Of course, we should not expect the cook to cook a steak and we will be able to eat it in the remaining time. When time is limited, it's always better to ask the waitresses what is available in the kitchen."
" Maybe there are some preferences? " Still, the girl clarified.
I shook my head negatively and assured her that I didn't. I don't suffer from any food allergies, and I don't count calories.
The girl smiled faintly with only the corner of her lips. Most likely, she does not meet such visitors often, who do not demand to fry a piglet in five minutes, and only fresh and do not torture about the exact number of calories in each piece.
Andrew had been sipping his coffee gloomily all this time. If I had known about his problem in advance, I would have bought a light sleeping pill and intercepted it before he could drink it. Of course, there's a pharmacy around here somewhere. Except sleeping pills don't mix well with alcohol, you could end up like Merlin Monroe!
Nevertheless, I was in the best mood I'd ever been in. This trip is going to be exciting. I'll attend a conference, expand my knowledge. Besides, I might be able to visit a couple of interesting places in St. Petersburg itself.
Business class finally made me feel like a queen. Before that, I had only flown in economy class, where you can only fold your legs over the ears of the passenger in front of you. But here you have space, a blanket and champagne. And I did not have to ask or demand anything. It was as if the staff could read minds and guess whom to serve what.
At the airport we were met by a decent car, not a minibus. Mr. Roberts , who slept the whole flight and sobered up, managed to get to it by himself. So we didn't have to drag anyone, which only added points to the already high mood.
So, having checked in without any problems, I took the conference program from the reception, registered Andrew as a participant and myself as a secretary, and with a sense of accomplishment went to my room.
The organizers chose a decent hotel. The room was made in a pleasant blue color, which the owner of the hotel killed two birds with one stone – it was not too bright and looked decent. After taking a shower, I realized that I didn't want to sleep at all, as well as to sit in the room.
Life had suddenly taken an unexpected turn. A month ago I was a simple English tutor. A month later, I was a woman who'd been dumped.
And now… I wanted to open the window and shout all over Peter how happy I was.
I didn't shout out the window, of course. But I changed into a quite decent dark purple dress with a smell, put on stilettos and went down to the bar. After all, the workday was over, and I could afford a martini or a margarita. As I walked downstairs, I couldn't decide what I really wanted. So I decided to have both.
Having settled down at the bar, I made an order and turned to the TV, which was showing some foreign music videos. The blonde singer managed to sing something, while dancing in boots, on a huge platform and no less high heels, and in iron underpants. I wonder if she rubbed anything on herself.
" Don't you like her? " the bartender suddenly inquired.
" Honestly, it's the first time I've seen her," I said, embarrassed.
The bartender was a pretty good-looking guy. He had gray eyes, dark blond hair pulled back in a short, disheveled ponytail over shaved temples. And that's okay, but he even looked younger.
" Really? " He was genuinely surprised. " She's been on every channel lately. I even got it."
" So I guess I'm lucky," I laughed. Sneakingly reading the nametag, I should have done it right away.
" And how lucky," Denis assured me. " You'd better come tomorrow. We'll have a local rock band playing. You'll definitely like them"
" I will," I assured him.
Not listening to a local rock band in St. Petersburg is like not going to Red Square in Moscow and not buying a gingerbread in Tula.
Satisfied with the time I had spent, I went to my room. And on the stairs I heard some unexplainable screams. My premonition was right, it was all for me. It can't be that everything was going perfectly well, there must be a spoonful of honey in the barrel of honey.
Camille broke into my room and demanded to open it.
" What are you doing? " I asked, stopping so that the distance between us was a little more than two meters. The girl had clearly lost her mind. And it's dangerous to get close to someone like that.
The blonde turned sharply and thrust her clawed red manicure forward.
" Aha! I knew it was you!" Camille howled.
I took a step back, expecting her to lash out.
" Excuse me? " I wondered.
Who did she expect to see trying to kick down the door to my room?
" We were doing so well until you showed up!"
The blonde defiantly whimpered, about to burst into beautiful tears. I didn't understand what her complaint was, but I didn't plan to find out.
I had to get up early tomorrow, at eight in the morning, so that I could be ready for the conference by nine. It was the first hour of the morning and I still planned to get some sleep.
Taking advantage of the fact that Camille was busy with her theater production, I quickly opened the door to my room, planning to hide inside. And let her knock until the porter came! Turns out that's exactly what she was expecting. Pushing me away, the blonde was the first to break in with a shout of, "Aha!"
After scanning the entire room with her frantic gaze, she didn't calm down. The room was small, and most of it was occupied by a double bed, two nightstands on its sides, a built-in closet with glass doors on the opposite wall, where the blonde immediately stuck her nose. Not finding what she was looking for, she moved to the only neighboring room – a shower room with a toilet. I don't know what she was looking for, but she obviously couldn't find anything.
" Why do you need such a big bed? " Camille asked suspiciously.
I shrugged, seriously considering calling the receptionist to escort her out by force.
The blonde suddenly collapsed to the floor and looked under the bed. I dropped my bag in surprise.
" I'll catch you anyway," she hissed threateningly and stormed out of the room.
I hurried to lock the door. What if she decided to come back?! Psychos are unpredictable creatures! Sitting down on the bed, I decided to wait a bit to make sure she was gone for good and, if anything, to actually call hotel security for help. I would have to warn Andrew about her appearance tomorrow.
The biggest injustice in the world is when you almost have a day off and can sleep, but your body somehow wakes up at five in the morning. You can't sleep at all, and yet you can't go back to sleep.
For the first minute I stared at the perfectly white and flat ceiling and couldn't remember where I was. Then I tried to fall asleep for half an hour, but the kingdom of Morpheus waved me goodbye and slammed the door in my face in the most despicable way.
The booklet of the hotel, which I had studied yesterday, said that breakfast was served only at half past eight in the morning. So it was useless to walk through the corridors in search of coffee. But I had time to thoroughly study the conference program, as well as a small black planner the size of a palm, which was in an envelope with the documents given to me by Andrew at the airport.
What can I say, his schedule was no easier than usual. Let's start at least with a joint breakfast with a certain Sokolov at eight-thirty in the morning. So I'd have to remind him of that at 8:00 sharp. At least I wouldn't have to walk far, our rooms are on the same floor.
After studying the booklet again, I found that the only place to go in the morning was the gymnasium, which never closed. It was as if people could go out at 2am to socialize with the machines. I probably would have gone now too if I had known about it in advance and brought my sneakers. The hotel also has a spa and massage rooms, a swimming pool (if I find a store where I can buy a swimsuit, I will definitely go!), a restaurant and a bar, which I already managed to visit yesterday. The only entertainment available to me so far is the shower in my room, and that's where I went.
Living with a friend is fun, there's always someone to watch shows with, drink wine with and share expenses with. The only thing was that the shower in the morning had to be used in speed mode. We both had to get together at about the same time and half an hour standing under the jets of water was an unacceptable luxury.
I cleaned myself up, put on gray pants, a light shirt, and shoes with a low, wide heel. I didn't know how much running I'd have to do, so I'd better make sure I had comfortable shoes beforehand. I tucked my hair into a bun, tinted my eyes, and twirled around in front of the mirror.
Now I was ready, if not to conquer Peter, then at least to make an attempt.
For breakfast, I decided to go to the restaurant's opening time and drop off the paperwork to the boss a little early.
" Get out! "
Andrew opened the door before I could even knock. I was stunned by my boss, who was shaken up and especially angry this morning.
" Come in," he told me.
I was completely confused, having just been told to leave and then to come right in. I even took a closer look at him. Maybe he kept drinking instead of sleeping at night, and in the morning he caught a squirrel? The general crumpled appearance could be an indication that he just didn't have time to clean himself up in the morning, or it could be that he didn't sleep at all.