We went to Simferopol by train. Ordinary food, nothing supernatural. July, night... Bank of beer, cards and a friend pathologist. We were overcome by wild insomnia, so we talked for life and played a fool. After the twentieth party, he suddenly stood up sharply and looked into the corridor, after which, with such a manic face, sat back and said:
What a beauty!
For some reason I thought he had seen a beautiful passenger or something like that, and decided to check. Looked out, and there was nothing but sleeping passengers on the different sides of their legs. Pressing my shoulders, I sat closer to the window and looked at the lights flying past.

A friend suddenly stood up and, grabbing his wallet, headed somewhere toward the toilet. I did not even attach much importance to it. Then it turned out that this man was going to the toilet, took out of his portfolio of handbags and put on the big fingers of the legs of all those sleeping in the car. When I said he was a fool, I slept and fell asleep.

I woke up from the terrible scream of the conductor, who was heading to another wagon, and saw this wonderful picture. Looking at a friend and again seeing his maniacally satisfied smile, I realized that the pathologists have a rather peculiar sense of humor.