I fucking love Russia but not so much that I’d marry it so don’t even ask. Everyday, things that are outside of normal thought processes happen in Russia. Whether it’s jumping from buildings into banks of snow, driving like absolute maniacs whilst recording your every twist and turn, or simply parking a car lot full of cars on a frozen lake, Russia truly is like a box of chocolates: you never know what you’re gonna get, but you can be sure more than 75 percent of it is gonna suck balls.
What do you do in this situation? After the vodka festival is over, you’re just lookin to get the fuck outta there and sleep off your potato booze. You walk over the mountains and through the woods to get back to your car and after you’ve been hunting for your ride for over an hour, you see a line of vehicles submerged like the Red October.
The worst part is that you can’t even really complain. They frown on complaining in Russia. So what do you do? You either shoot Boris the parking lot attendant and take his car or you start heading back through the woods and over the mountains again so you can vodka drink your frozen car’s memory away. It’s a sad state of affairs but such is life in the motherland.