Stories from the early 90s.

Those who lived in a conscious age in the 1990s probably remember how the Iron Curtain collapsed in front of a bunch of Western products. All these colas, gummies, alcohol royal, vodka-beast-no-beat, wagon villas, boomer, anklbens and iron with them. And what was the passion of the people to try all this after a decade of ivasay and barrels with berry juice and tomato paste in the shops...

At the beginning of the 1990s, we were a simple 20-year-old. They started earning some coins on their own. And here in the shops appeared again overseas (in the 80s some types of Cuban rum and Vietnam-Korean vodka were still sold in the shops).

We and the Korean then-Gashi decided to try different types of strong alcohol imported to choose "your drink." We did not immediately like whiskey - the stereotype of "bourgeois self-driving on oak pebbles" worked, they rejected tequila, learning that it was also of the genre of the same, the cognac like an elite buchlo was not used to hold (and the beef counterfeit).
Napoleon was interested. In short, I chose Jean. And once every 2 weeks bought a large batch of 0.75 Beef Eaters (Bifiter so translated), took a bowl of swap to it, lemon and arranged "noble drinks" under the view of my home.

One Friday evening we met with Gosha to have a drink. We went to the store, took the gin and all the add-ons to the cocktail "Jim and Tolik", we go in anticipation of a good friendly sitting...
And here out of the shelter to go out a bitchy man with a bitchy look, but not a beat, and to us.
Guys, I am breathtaking...
We see that the matter is ridiculous, and the man is so trembling that the old man
Condratich smiles to him somewhere around the corner with his teethless black smile.
But don’t give it out of your throat!
Does she have a glass?
There is! He stretches an empty mayonnaise bowl.
I open the traffic jamming, pour it, the man drinks, turns into a burn and silently explains that he needs a cigarette.
Having made a few stretches, he breathes out loud, opens his eyes, and we see - the client is alive! I am glad that a man was saved.
And the man is already nice, smiles, says:
You guys, you guys, the real Russian men, not PiJaraSy – they’t.
Nelly! Behold, I look at you, well dressed and clean, and I do not understand you.
Do you drink alcohol in such amounts?? to