Day 4, Sat 8/11. It's Like Times Square Here

The natives were busy all day erecting a massive structure to race and flip motorcycles upon, accompanied by loud music.

Incidentally, Barry's woman, the thirtyish beautiful doctor turned him down.
I think if we got arrested that morning, she would have gone with him.
Ladies love outlaws like babies love stray dogs.

I base that upon my past experiences: When a former love of mine would ask me, plaintively, "Richard, do you love me? I would respond harshly, "Don't ask me personal questions." We lasted eight years.

When I begged another former love of mine to let me mow her lawn, or let me buy her a dog so I could come over and clean up the dog shit,basicallyn to see her. When I told her she had stolen my heart she said, "Call the police".

After passing out twice from lack of sleep. I missed meeting with the boys at 11PM to head back to the River Palace. This is their last evening here. They head for Yalta tomorrow at 4PM.

I had basically slept the day and evening away, interspersed with internet and some eating. I'm busy trying to figure it out.

I grabbed a cab to the River Palace. Cab rides are always negotiated. The Ukrainian Grema (sp?) is 5 to a dollar. So 50 gremas is 10 bucks. If I spend too much on a ride, Tom chastises me. I love that guy.

We had a lovely dinner. A fine band was playing American songs, singing phonetically.
The guitar player had a shirt on that read, "FUCK ME." He was quite talented.

Two women sat with us at a large table. Tom pitched them, but when I said I wanted a wife, they left in a big hurry, shaking their heads.

Tom always wins at the blackjack table. I was winning and I had a thirty dollar bet on the table when the dealer drew a 6 to his 17. This is a no no. We all argued that we are responsible for our errors so should the house. Well after much Russian, they said sorry but the 17 stands (I lost with my 14). Also they wanted to play the errant six as the next card which went to Tom. Nobody wants a 6 in blackjack. The six players at the table all got up and walked out in protest.

On that note we headed home.

I was to meet them Sunday for lunch at Fellinis, a fine Italian restaurant, prior to their departure. I am staring to miss them and they haven't left yet.