I had to fly from Peter to Moscow. I have an inspection at the airport. Time is a wagon. With a small bag. Nothing illegal goes with me.

He put his bag on the tape, removed his shoes and belt, passed. All is OK. I dress up. I have a girl in shape. Staff at the airport.

Young man, go with me.

So go through. I follow her gently and confidently. It leads me through some slopes and stairs. I gradually realize that we are going into some fucking thing. Apparently something wrong is happening.

In fact, what is the matter?

I will explain there. It was said in a cold, hard tone. I wondered if I would bring a drug bomb with me. I remembered that I didn’t put it in my bag this time.

Finally I enter. In a room with a bunch of moving tape with luggage. The airport employee victoriously picked up a completely unfamiliar red bag.

Their bag? ! to He does not ask as much as he claims.

No, not the mine.

What does “not mine” mean?

That it does not belong to me.

She hanged for a second. Then I raised a label attached to the bag.

You may say that you are not Ivanov Petrovich.

I will say. I am Petrov Ivan Ivanovich. In confirmation of my words, I show my passport.

The girl’s eyes were incomprehensible.

Who is he talking about, shit!

The girl fled. Leaving me without apologies in the airport fucking. The road I did not remember.