About the year 2003-04. I am a tired student for the day, I go from the institute to the shelter and I decide to sit on the bench on the boulevard to rest. After a couple of minutes, a drunken cloud is drawn from somewhere, blows up next to it (the boulevard is full of empty benches, but we understand that it is the one on which I am sitting that is the best) and begins to actively meet in the spirit of “Your mother doesn’t need a son-in-law?” My mother doesn't need a son-in-law, especially one who is drunk on the boulevards and clings to the girls who dress up as daughters. I get up, I leave, the man is itching after me and begins to grab my hands. Dinner around no one is useless.

I push the man away as I can. I’m one and a half heads lower and twice lighter, so I can’t really, but he’s drunk and stands badly on his legs, shakes and falls – well, as he falls, he just sits his ass on the sand. He begins to cry that I am a hooligan. Here, wherever you can take - the police armor, which, it turns out, was still around... In general, jokes and jokes, but I spent an hour and a half in the monkey house, until I understood what and who was hooliganizing here. Later, I was triumphantly brought into communion on the Mento car and was conducted with a jokeful rush to "no longer beat anyone", neighbors in communion still looked with respect for a long time.