That one time I hugged a Russian man

I spent a semester teaching English in Russia about a year and a half ago. Besides the fact that it is one of the coolest, most amazing experiences I've ever had, it was also a steady stream of fantastically awkward situations. Seriously, it was almost daily. I could probably start an entire blog just devoted to the many embarrassing moments I enjoyed whilst in Mother Russia. 

Nevertheless... there is one that takes the cake. 

Let me preface this by telling you a little bit about the bus situation in Voronezh. We had to take the bus if we wanted to go anywhere that was too far too walk, and that was pretty often. The buses are kind of small, have a distinct stench smell, and the windows are so dirty you usually can't see through them. Also, they tend to be extraordinarily crowded, meaning you are really lucky to get a seat. Usually you get the privilege of standing with your fellow passengers pressing you on every side. If you are really lucky, you might get squished between some stinky, fat Russian guys.

I got "lucky" a lot.

A typical Russian bus, except this one is too clean. Imagine it is covered in 20 years of grime.

Yes, he is talking on the phone which he answered right after he threw his cigarette out the window. I love Russia. 

One evening after school, three of us headed to the church to play some volleyball. All was going splendidly. Volleyball was every Friday night and signified the end of a week and the beginning of the wonderful weekend... yippee! We waltzed down to the bus stop and when our chariot arrived we climbed aboard.

It was pretty crowded, which was usual at this time of day. Unfortunately, I was so excited to get to volleyball that I forgot to get my 11 ruble (that's about 35 cents) bus fare ready so I could hand it to the driver on my way in. No matter, I said to myself. I'll just dig it out of my coin purse while we're driving and have someone pass it up.

The next few seconds are a bit of a blur. I took advantage of a red traffic light to release my grip on the one of the poles we relied on to stay upright so I could get my coin purse out. That was my fatal mistake. As luck would have it, the second I let go the bus lurched forward and I went careening with flailed arms towards the herd of people on the bus behind me. In my frantic attempts to catch myself, I managed to end up kneeling on the ground with my arms securely wrapped around the torso of a rather large Russian man and my face smashed in his soft, smelly belly.

Oh, sweet heavens above.

If one could die of embarrassment, I am confident I would have shriveled up right then and there. The split second I spent there felt like decades. I picked myself up, choked out an apology (Thankfully I knew how to do that in Russian), and then put the nail in the coffin by going into a fit of uncontrollable nervous laughter.

And that, my dear friends, is the first and last time I hugged a Russian man.