One Great Night

As a feisty Irish girl, it is to be expected that I would celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with much fervor and festivities. During my years at home, my mom would provide my brother and I with buttons and greet shirts to signal to the world that we were Irish and proud. Our dinners would be complete with green mashed potatoes, green applesauce, green cookies, green pancakes, etc. Thus, coming up onto March 17, 2011, I was a little apprehensive about the idea of celebrating St. Pat’s in Moscow (especially because the annual parade on Arbat Street was canceled). You know what they say though, if you can’t bring Mohammad to the mountain, you bring the mountain to you…or something like that.
It’s very important for me to make sure that I am always wearing green. Unfortunately, I did not bring any green items of clothing to Moscow. I instantly changed that by drawing a shamrock on my forearm with a green pen. Problem solved. Dr. Katie McKee, our fabulous teacher for the month of March, shares my affinity for Irish culture and was just as enthusiastic about engaging in an adventure. So, at about 3:30 we set off to find some mischief.
Karlie, Katie and I began our festivities for the day by taking the most convoluted route on the Metro possible. We had 3 line changes and multiple stops on each line; it was an ordeal. I noticed the banality of the Russian people more so today than other days. No one was wearing green, no one was cheerful, and no one was celebrating. It was tragic.
Our destination for the day was an inexpensive souvenir shop on the other side of town. Unfortunately the guidebook did not include detailed direction, so ultimately we were unable to locate this mythical souvenir shop. However, while on our wild goose chase, Katie entertained us with Irish folk stories. We also kept ourselves entertained by singing show tunes up and down the sidewalk, much to the chagrin of our fellow pedestrians. (Our harmonies were incandescent, in case you were wondering)
So, after our unsuccessful venture, we decided to take a chance on a strip mall located close to the metro. Being the lackadaisical people we are, Karlie, Katie and I had no problem absentmindedly wandering the myriad of little shops littered with suspicious Russian storeowners. I don’t think the concept of customer service is quite as pronounced in Russia as it is here in the US. Nevertheless, this did not temper our mood (we were hyper after singing songs from The Sound of Music).
After a bout of unsuccessful, yet entertaining, shopping, we decided to stop in T. G. I. Fridays for a little American dinner. I could have cried tears of joy at the sight of chicken fingers and honey mustard. I never realized how much I missed those little bundles of cholesterol. Our waitress was the nicest girl I’ve come across. She was so enthusiastic and willing to speak English. We wondered the motives behind this service. We debated whether or not there was a correlation between the customer satisfaction and the T.G.I. Friday company’s American origins.
St. Patrick’s Day was in full swing at T.G.I. Friday. To make a long story short, I will just saw that our night concluded with free t-shirts, full stomachs, and a happy state of mind. But overall, I think it is important to note the disparity in customer service between the boutiques and our waitress at T.G.I. Friday. I suppose Russia is a nation of contrasts, which was perpetuated in our fantastic night out.