... seated in the compartment. We decided to take the train, my sister and I, because she has an irrational fear of flying. I'm not afraid of planes. I have always held that the fear of flying, just like the fear of going to the dentist, is terribly uncivilized. Anyway, look at the statistics. I can't be that unlucky!
I don't fly Aeroflot though, they say that their planes crash often. And I don't fly when I have bad dreams. Nor when the weather is bad. However, I do understand my sister's fear of getting stuck in a tunnel. Oh, that must be awful! It's not just about the unpleasant feeling of being in the dump, dark tunnel and the fright that at some point we would run out of air. No, those are silly, abstract fears. I'm concerned about what could really happen ? that we stand still in the tunnel for so long that another train comes and smacks into us at full speed. I can already see the titles in newspapers: "Disaster of immeasurable Proportions, " "Impossible to identify Victims" or sentimentally-sensational stories of "Bloody Epilogue of Summer Holiday", "Doomed Path of the Midnight Train" sort. And in the aftermath all that was left was the left foot of victim No. 253. Or a pile of oatmeal-like mass.
Train crossings are in a league of their own. I know these railroad workers, they are just getting drunk all day long and don't care about anything. They do everything in a routine and that must end tragically some day. I mean, isn't there a huge possibility that the signalman is a little "under the influence" (he doesn't exactly have to be a heavy drinker, but for example he could have had his marriage anniversary the day before), and, being sleepy and drunk, signals to the coming train "track two" instead of "track three". Or that the signalman is young and inexperienced and gets confused, whatever, there are many combinations, even a locomotive driver can make a mistake. And then I imagine it again - the tunnel scenario.
Two hours later, everyone in the compartment is asleep. Actually, I'm sure that the entire train is asleep. I could never understand the inclination to sleep on a night journey. People don't mind staying awake for New Year's eve, or respect that silly tradition of sitting up all night when someone dies or even waiting for the sunrise just for the hell of it. But, sleeping in trains is a convention. I hate conventions and I hate conformism. And I won't sleep, that's my principle.
Anyway, what normal human being could possibly sleep in a situation like this. Our railroads are old, laid right after World War Two and I don't know that they have ever been reconstructed. Just imagine this: you're crossing a bridge, its rusty, worn-out, and it shakes, squeaks, and clatters. You know there's a river somewhere down there, but you can't see it even in broad daylight, because between the river and the bridge there's an - abyss. And then you think of the fact that it's enough for one screw to become loose, one single screw, to cause the train to fall into the bottomless gulf. Or, for example, the train overturns right on the bridge. You are awake, react on time, jump through the window, reach the river, come to the surface, start swimming and in that instant the entire fucking train falls on you and plants you into the mud. Or sticks you on the rocks depending on the river bottom.
I think that there's nothing more beautiful than riding fast in cars. The adrenaline rush , the wind tangling your hair, the narrow line of the road rolling under the wheels and the scenery flashing past . I just adore fast rides. If I were a man, I would probably be a rally driver. I mean it.
But this idiot of a driver who takes us home from the train station is really overreacting. I'm seated at the back seat of Jeep Cherokee, on the place in the middle, originally made for putting hands on. It's also slightly elevated which intensifies the shaking. The bloke at the steering wheel is obviously high. He's driving 120 kilometers an hour on the mountain road and he hardly slows down on the corners. It's raining on top of everything. In the last five minutes we had three near misses and avoided crashing only thanks to the attentiveness of other drivers. For that reason, I can't help seeing a picture of us forcefully slamming against a ten-ton Globetrotter and me thrown towards the windshield which breaks with a big craaaack sound.. And I die, of course. Or forcefully slamming against a ten-ton Globetrotter and I hit the roof with my head. And I break my neck, of course. Or we forcefully nail ourselves into a rock. And my body gets butchered with pieces of hot steel, of course. Or we don't manage to get round a corner, slip from the road and fall down a cliff. And then I end up being smeared on the rocks, of course. Or remain hanging on some bushes. That would be a terrible death, a terrible death indeed. Adding to the irony, I seem to be the only one paying attention to the tune that is playing on the radio: And if a double-decker bus / crush on us / to die by your side / it's such a heavenly way to die. / And if a ten ton truck / kills both of us / to die by your side / well the pleasure privilege is mine.
Finally - our dear building. I'm having second thoughts about taking the elevator, because a storm's raging outside and there's a big chance that the electricity could go off any second. My sister doesn't want to take chances - she'll walk. For me, the sixteenth floor is a bit too far after a sleepless night, so I boldly step inside. The light bulb starts to flicker and on the third floor I already have a picture in my head. Nooooo, not that picture of me getting stuck, one can always survive that. But you see, our tower block is the tallest building in this part of the town. Just think of how much electricity is released when it's really stormy. And tonight it's really stormy. Now, let's presume that the lightning conductor doesn't do it's job and the lightning hits the roof of the building. And how is the electricity going to reach the ground? Through the elevator, of course. And what happens? : Logically, I get fried in that metal box. Carbonized.
Sixteenth is really too far away. A bit of shaking on the eighth, ninth, tenth, c'mon, c'mon, twelfth, help me God, thirteenth, ooooops, yellow door of the fifteenth and - hop - safe at home. You know something? Storms really freak me out!
Now I'm in the bed, it's about time to get some rest. It has just come to my mind: it's been raining heavily for more than a week. And after heavy rains they say that big earthquakes come, and living on the sixteenth floor doesn't leave you much hope to...


Translated by the author