The mysterious story that happened one night at Galic Station of the Northern Railway
This story was told to me one night by two ments in the line department of Galic Station of the Northern Railway.
How did I get to the department? I was delivered there by the brigade of the Novosibirsk-Moscow fast train. How did I get on the train? To be honest, I don’t remember anymore. I was driving somewhere. Youth is like that. Driving in the unknown. There are no tickets, we have to go.
And yet my crime consisted in the fact that I self-confidently sat down not in some stunned Khabarovsky, but in the Paphos Novosibirsk. Where the boss turned out to be some kind of sympathetic arrogance, with which we did not meet in the views of traditional human values, and as a result, I was not just thrown out in the middle of the night at the nearest station, but called out and handed over to local ments.
The menta, two young guys, brought me to duty, but instead of knocking on the kidneys and throwing in the monkey, they offered to share a modest menta dinner with them, and then we spent the middle of the day drinking tea, singing songs under the guitar, and chewing bikes.
Here is one of the stories told by these mentions.
Everyone knows that in the past on the Galic Station of the Northern Railway toilets type sortir, male and female, were in the open air, at different ends of platform No. 1. Where the first car stopped, there was a male car, and where the last one was a female car. And they were not some kind of scourgeons, but very monumental stone structures.
Now look at. The night is empty platform. And only at the beginning of her, just near the male toilet, waiting for the train to Moscow, stands a solid, well-dressed man. With two suitcases. No one else on the platform.
Suddenly, it is unclear where, next to the man comes a pleasant in all respects middle-aged lady, and typically moving from foot to foot confusedly pronounces:
“Sorry, you don’t look, there’s no one there?
And the kiwi on the men’s toilet, adds:
I'm afraid I won't be able to run for a woman. She explains it.
A man slightly touched by the spice of the moment goes to the toilet, faithfully bypasses it along the perimeter, staring into the cabins, and returns to the perron.
And there, to his surprise, he discovers that there is no lady on the perron, his suitcases - there is not too, but in their place in the light of the perron lights shines a medium-sized lawn.
But that was not what struck him the most.
This is an idiot!! He became upset later in the office. What fucking thing? What damn do I get into that toilet? I stood next to him for half an hour, and I absolutely know that there was no one there!!! to
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Already at midnight, when I began to sneeze my nose, the mint put me to sleep in their rest room, and early in the morning they woke up, and put me on the first train going to Moscow. They just approached the brigadier and said that this guy should be taken to Moscow. and all.
P.S I’ve written it all right now, and I’ve thought – and which of the stories actually looks more incredible? About this "snowball" on the perron, which melted together with the suitcases, or about two unusual from the point of view of a simple butterfly? I do not even know.
But one thing I can say with certainty - I have never seen the "snowberry" in my eyes, for which I bought it and sold it, and the menta of these, (how many years have passed, thirty, forty?I remember like yesterday. Such things.
We filmed three or four years ago with friends-colleagues “three” for three. Since my room was adjacent to the place of common gathering (the kitchen) and we worked alternately, I often woke up from an uncontrolled whistle. I had to get up and remind you of inappropriate behavior.
But one day they came to the end. I wake up from the fact that they light my face with a lamp and pull my shoulders, and the one who was less attached to his worthless life, even scratched my cheeks. Snooping from the light of the lamp and loudly flattering from unheard of boldness, I say about the following: “Sky! They quickly ran into the rooms. You are completely upset, fucking! If I get up, I will kill you!”
I open my eyes, and on me from all sides, with eyes the size of five ruble coins, interns of the gastrointestinal department of the Taganskaya hospital. “It’s a reaction to anesthesia,” a surgeon (a surgeon for feminism) found with smaller eyes.
The operation to remove the appendix was successful, I completely forgot about it.