A colleague told me this story, then in his words and on his behalf:

“I was sent on a business trip to a distant regional center. I am flying. I catch a taxi at the airport. It is a strong Caucasian middle-aged horse. The case is closer to the evening. It is dark. In the endless forest. We go quietly. According to my calculations, we walked half the way to the city. The driver asks spontaneously with a quiet voice:

Are you going to IBAT?

I was confused, and a little frightened, I didn't understand who would be "habit": he me or I him, but in any case, answered affirmatively.

A few kilometers later, a taxi driver stumbled onto a gas station, where the priests of love waited. from the heart. We offer night butterflies. I came back a little and polently refused.

"Well, it is right, let these bladey ibats - when leaving the gas station, the driver observed."