Three in Thailand lyre player. Tours to Thailand for three. Consent to the processing of personal data

10.07.2019

Current page: 1 (book has 13 pages total) [available reading passage: 9 pages]

Anton Lirnik
Three in Thailand, not counting dogs

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet or corporate networks, for private or public use without the written permission of the copyright owner.

* * *

Preface by the author

As I write this preface, the book is not yet finished. But, as soon as the text is ready, in this place the author’s confidential and not devoid of self-irony appeal to the readers will appear. In which I will inform you that the book is supposedly the first, and, they say, don’t judge strictly. And I will say “thank you” to everyone who needs to say “thank you.” And I assure everyone else that the work has nothing to do with real people and enterprises. And I am happy to note that the book is intended for a wide readership. And finally, I will express the hope that my humble creation will appeal to everyone: both those who laugh out loud while rewatching “The Hangover in Vegas” and those who quietly chuckle while re-reading “Three Men in a Boat.” And I’ll add that I dedicate my book to the author of the last work. Thank you for my happy childhood, dear Jerome K. Jerome!

Anton Lirnik, autumn 2013

Chapter one,

in which the reader will get acquainted with the main characters of this story, experience the true joy of meeting old friends, and at the same time feel all the destructive impact of such meetings on the fragile human body

- Vasily Ivanovich, that’s enough, don’t play around! “My heels continued to tickle relentlessly, and I tried my best not to laugh. But then a claw pierced my leg. It was too much. I threw a slipper at Vaska, and the cat darted under the table offendedly. Rising from the sofa, I stretched sweetly. The gray Moscow morning was slowly creeping in through the window.

It’s still good that I didn’t get drunk yesterday. New Year's corporate parties- an insidious thing. First, everyone makes a toast in honor of the director. An hour later they begin to dance to Serduchka. Then they play twister dashingly, stepping on ties and hems of dresses with their hands. Then the speeches become shorter and shorter, the glasses become fuller, and the ladies become prettier every minute. In the morning you find yourself in the supply manager’s closet with the chief accountant’s bra in your pocket. This time I restrained myself, drank little to protect my liver. I won't lie, it was a bit boring. In addition, the pretty office manager Nina, offended by my restraint, went to hiccup on the deputy director’s shoulder. But for the time being, there is a considerable collection of incriminating evidence lurking in the mobile phone.

Outside the window, the metropolis was buzzing, Muscovites hobbled to work. And I have already started New Year holidays. Our director is a great expert human souls. I let everyone go out for a walk already on December 24th. So after lunch I was going to fly to my native Yekaterinburg. After taking a shower and a cup of coffee, I grabbed a crop of washed socks from the radiator and began to get ready. The doorbell rang.

– Artyom, what is better to feed Vasya: liver or kidneys? – asked neighbor Klavdia Stepanovna. Former ballerina walked into my bachelor pad with well-practiced grace.

– Every once in a while, just don’t spoil it too much. Last time he got so fat on your diet that he jumped on my chest and almost broke my ribs. – The old lady chuckled slyly.

- So are you flying home? When will you be back?

“I don’t know yet,” I answered, putting things into my bag, “with my friends you can’t guess.”

- I remember, I remember. How did they sing when they arrived that winter?

- “Misha got a slap in the face from Seryozha!”

- Yeah. Seryozha – which one is the little one? Good boy, so polite. – The elderly neighbor, due to her naivety, mistook Seryozha’s state of being high for politeness.

- Well, let's sit down on the path!

With mournful faces, we sat down on chairs, I took the cat in my arms.

- Vasily Ivanovich, you remain in charge. Klavdia Stepanovna don’t be rude, don’t have cats, take care of yourself and your country!

Two hours later I was already entering the airport building. In my ranking of transport hubs, the airport certainly ranks first. The airport is not at all like the echoing railway stations and barn-type bus stations that smell of beggars and pasties. Everything about it is solemn: the passengers, the planes, the stacks of gray troughs in front of the frame, and the hair of the flight attendants, forever tied back with something at the back of their heads. I boarded the plane and sat down in my rightful seat 16D. Like all passengers, my face took on a majestic expression. This happens to everyone who is involved in the process, but is not involved in its implementation. The chair next to me was still empty. I hoped that the “mysterious stranger” would take over. Of course, such fantasies are somewhat stupid for a thirty-two-year-old, albeit unmarried, man.

– Excuse me, is this seat 16E? – the stranger, squinting slightly, looked at the numbers on the panels. Under the fur coat was a short, tight-fitting dress just above the knees. There is a light scarf around the neck. The image of the fellow traveler was complemented by pearlescent lipstick on slightly swollen lips and the alluring smell of perfume. My inner hussar grinned and mentally twirled his mustache.

– Please sit down, let me pack your bag!

– Thanks, bro, I’ll pack the bag! – the second neighbor materialized from behind the girl. He was three hundred grams short of Gerard Depardieu's build. However, he has already accepted two hundred of them. It’s good that Yekaterinburg is only a couple of hours away. The girl slipped to the window, and the big man hardly squeezed himself into the chair between us. I felt the first attack of aerophobia.

- Lenus, give me a flask. Well, shall we take a sip? – the second phrase was intended for me.

- Thank you, I’m flying to my parents. I don’t want to upset my mother with fumes.

- Mom is sacred! For the parents! - said the big guy and took a deep sip of the flask.

* * *

Soft landing. While I applauded along with the other passengers, my neighbor snored enthusiastically out the window. His secretary (she was too flexible for a wife) was waging another pig-bird war on the phone. At Koltsovo airport, everyone immediately rushed to the baggage grinders. My suitcase crawled out first, and with a feeling of deep moral satisfaction I went out into the waiting room. Where I immediately saw a red-haired boy with a sign “YOLKIN” in upper limbs. Grinning taxi drivers crowded around him.

- Hey, isn't it me you're meeting?

- Artyom Yolkin?

- He's the one.

- God bless. Otherwise, these hamadryas have been teasing me with “Palkin” for five minutes.

“I understand, I didn’t hear that at school.”

“My name is Igor, Mikhail Matveevich told me to meet you,” Igor simultaneously spoke to me and looked at the piece of paper he was squeezing in his hand.

– Is this the text of your welcoming speech?

– No, Mikhail Matveevich described you, just in case.

“Let me see,” snatching the piece of paper from the crumpled Igor’s hands, I began to read my orientation. “Brunette, medium height, small belly, brown eyes. Elegant, as he thinks, stubble.” I raised mine brown eyes to Igor.

“In my opinion, quite elegant stubble,” he tried to correct the situation.

- Come on. Why didn’t Mikhail Matveevich come himself?

- He said he wanted to surprise you! Yeah, here he is calling. Just a minute! Yes, Mikhail Matveevich, yes, I met you, I grant! – Igor shouted into the phone and handed me the phone. A familiar bass voice came from the speaker:

- Hello, Artyom, how are you? Did you vomit during the flight? And Laptem and I have already...

- Did you vomit?

- No, we’re in a restaurant! Kebabs, vodya and our hospitality are waiting for you! Come quickly to us! Drink, get so drunk, muddle around in the mud! – Misha was in his repertoire. There were two light and one dark in his voice. I vividly imagined him talking on the phone, his gigantic body lounging on a chair. Slightly sweaty from alcohol brown hair stuck to the forehead not of a boy, but of a husband in his early thirties.

– Excuse me, I’ll go see my parents first, we haven’t seen each other for six months.

- No question. But don’t stick with the old people for too long, otherwise we’ll pounce without you. All! We are waiting! Give the phone to Igor.

After listening to the boss’s valuable instructions, Igor helpfully grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and we went to the car. Going outside, I happily breathed in the frosty Ural air. Here I am at home, good! The driver led me to a huge black jeep and opened the door himself. Misha has done a great job of training his employees, they are walking right on track, I thought, and plopped down in the back seat. We set off.

Mikhail Makarov is mine school friend, we sat at the same desk. We made smoke blowers together, went on first dates together, and entered college in the same year. I’m in the pedagogical school, he’s in the polytechnic. Since school, Misha was teased as “Homemade” because of his passion for design. And it was not for nothing that they teased him: at the age of twenty-five he opened his own service station, then several more. Now Makarov already had a powerful business, streamlined like a Swiss watch.

– Is it true that you and Mikhail Matveevich blew up the chemistry classroom at school?

– It’s not true, Igor, the explosion leaves a crater. And then the glass just flew out and the cleaning lady started stuttering.

- Wow, cool! Is it true that you...

- Wait, do you know where to take me?

- Of course, the boss told me the address, I’ll deliver it in the best possible way.

Wheels creaking in the snow, the jeep drove into my yard. The native Khrushchev house was ruffled by the frost, and a rocket was gray among the snowdrifts on the playground. On its side was the indisputable green inscription “VIKTOR TSOI IS LIVE!” Strange, before the inscription was blue. They're updating it, or what?

- All the best to you!

– Thank you, Igor!

Having climbed to the fifth floor, I took a breath and rang the doorbell. From the door that opened, there was a spicy scent: the mother was frying cutlets. Crossing the threshold, I shook my father's hand.

– Hello, Ilya Kuzmich.

- Hello, Artyom Ilyich. “He let me into the hallway and closed the door with his usual equanimity. It was as if I had returned from the store, and not flown fifteen hundred kilometers away.

- Why didn’t you call? We would set the table.

- Son, hello, my love! – my mother arrived in time and rushed to me with kisses. Dad accepted the coat, critically feeling the thin lining.

- Lucky. A little more and we would have missed each other!

-Where are you going?

- Let Artyom come in, Ilya, you got him stuck in the hallway! – Mom grumbled for show and disappeared into the kitchen.

In the living room I sat down on the sofa. The carpet on the wall effectively complemented Dad’s narrative.

– I bought last-minute trips to Egypt. My whole life my mother wanted to see the pyramids, and I wanted to smoke a real hookah.

- Well, this is not bad for one’s horizons. When will you be back?

– In twelve days: ten days there, plus two days on the road. In short, one leg is here, the other is there,” the father summed up gymnastically.

- Hey! Conqueror of the East, Artyom, go eat, the cutlets are ready,” my mother called us.

– What should I bring you from Egypt? – she asked me at the table.

– Anything, as long as it’s not made from papyrus. And, I beg you, do not ride camels...

- Why is this happening all of a sudden?

- It's gone.

- Don't grumble. Well, for Egypt! - We clinked glasses of cognac.

An hour later, the parents rushed to the airport, towards the Red Sea and hot sands. Somewhere deep down I envied them. Alone at home, I'm too old for such a film. However, the Three Musketeers format has not been canceled.

- Hello, Misha? How are you there?

- Very decent! Wait... Hey, you, in a bow tie, bring us another decanter! Only at the pace, otherwise we lose the rhythm! Hello, Artyom, how are your parents? Give them your regards!

- They went to Egypt!

- Oops, brother, you can’t do this with your family!

“They left on their own, they wanted to see the pyramids.”

- Fuck you, they're going to the East, and you're going to Kolosok! Do you remember where it is?

- Oh, damn. Misha, this is an eatery for drunks.

– Wake up and shine, it has long been converted into a family restaurant with striptease and chill-out.

– You come, you will see everything for yourself, and most importantly, you will touch it!

* * *

Forty minutes later I was standing in the foyer of the Kolosok restaurant. The guard with the glass eye was looking for my last name, running his finger along the list of persons “non grata”.

- I haven’t been to your place yet, you don’t have to look.

- Everyone says so. Are there any weapons?

- No, what can you offer?

- Joker? Well, well, you're welcome!

In the center of the hall, a small corporate party of about thirty people was noisy. The toastmaster, as if he had stepped out of an advertisement for a rehabilitation center, majestically made a toast. The men laughed at jokes from the book " Merry feast", page 82. In the far corner of the room, both of my friends were decorously drinking: one hundred and twenty kilos of Misha and one hundred and sixty centimeters of Seryozha. In the dimness of the restaurant, I flanked them and barked, “Hands up, monogamy check!” In response, Misha elegantly choked salted tomato. Sergei immediately began to fight for his friend’s life: the blows of his fists fell on Makarov’s back.

I have already talked about Misha, now I will draw your attention to my second comrade. We were introduced to Sergei Laptev by Ural television, where Makarov and I posted a commercial for his first service station. My slogan is “If your car breaks down, get your stash!” Laptev called him idiotic, in response I called him a cretin. We almost got into a fight, and it grew into a strong friendship.

After television, Sergei changed a dozen jobs. At each of them, he cynically disregarded the dress code: his arafatka and army boots organically complemented the image of an anti-globalist, esotericist and almost dystrophic. Short, stooped, and thin, Laptev was the walking personification of a midlife crisis. Brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Gray hair of a small beard bush. When looking at this almost thirty-five-year-old teenager, the word “planokur” naturally popped up in most people’s heads, and it popped up for good reason. But this didn’t bother Sergei one bit. And we liked Sergei’s shameless indifference.

Finally Misha cleared his throat:

“You can’t scare me like that, I almost gave up!” – from Mikhail, ruddy from vodka, one could draw the symbol of the 1980 Olympics. His gray-blue eyes sparkled with joy and alcohol, and the spotted blush on his entire cheek emphasized his heroic health. I smiled and guiltily spread my arms to the sides. Makarov grabbed me like a bear.

– I’ll give a fine to our friend from the capital! - Misha and Sergei barked, as if they had been rehearsing this phrase since our last meeting. Exhaling air synchronously, we drank while standing and immediately ate cabbage.

The kebabs were smoking appetizingly on the table, with pickles, mushrooms and herring standing around them. Boiled potatoes turned white next to sliced cheese and sausage. The decanter of vodka steamed erotically next to the jug of kvass. I rubbed my hands together vigorously in anticipation.

– And you’ve settled in well here.

– There is no reason for sadness, Artemon. Everyone is in crisis, but we are having Christmas! Gee-gee-gee!

- This makes me happy. What did you mean when you said that Kolosok is a family restaurant with a striptease?

“Serge, explain to the man the essence of pleasant changes,” Makarov announced and busied himself with the herring.

- It's very simple. After nine o'clock in the evening, the waitresses go topless, and dancing begins at the pole without underwear and prejudices.

- What time is it now?

– It’s about nine o’clock, so we have time to do everything!

– Glory to the company “Glavstolinvest!!” – the toastmaster proclaimed, and the entire corporate party suddenly raised their faces from their plates.

- Hooray!! Hooray!! Hooray!!!

This scream made us tremble, the chandeliers swayed, and a plastic tulip from a small vase fell into my aspic. It was some kind of acoustic aggression. On top of everything, Misha's phone rang.

“Quiet, this is Sveta,” Misha said either to us or to the toastmaster and for some reason stood up. - Hello, Svetik, hello to you! What? Well, I told you so. Artyom has arrived. What do you mean, “the same one!?” Yes, I'm drinking with him! Seryozha is also with us, so what?.. I warned you... Yes, I’ll buy onions, tomorrow, even a whole bag! What?! I’m about to shove it at someone like that...

I felt uncomfortable. This happens when you are waiting in line at the dentist, and outside the door the doctor is unsuccessfully trying to seat a screaming child in a chair. I glanced at Laptev. He calmly squeezed a pickled tomato into his mouth.

– Seryoga, maybe I should talk to Sveta?

- No need, let the storm calm down on its own. Let's not interfere with the rampant nature.

– Hello, Sveta, don’t hang up. Svetik! Holy... - the purple-faced Misha sat down heavily on a chair and slammed his phone on the tablecloth. His wife had the appearance of an angel and the temperament of a demon.

To somehow calm our nerves, we immediately drank. Then we drank one more, and the feast rushed along the long-trodden route. The empty decanter disappeared, giving way to its brimming counterpart. Toasts were shortened until they were reduced to gestures. It was nine o'clock in the evening. The busts of the waitresses reminded us of dessert. Melons and apples were ordered (there were no watermelons, but in vain). Looking around, I realized that fun had swept through the restaurant like a tsunami. The toastmaster started arm wrestling with the director of Glavstolinvest. Subordinates obsequiously placed bets on the boss’s victory. He pushed with all his might. The purple face and swollen veins on the forehead foreshadowed an imminent heart attack. The strippers, forgetting about the pole, cheered for the toastmaster. Inspired by their swaying support, I raised my glass and focused my gaze on my drinking companions.

- Friends, if you only knew how glad I am to see you! Let's drink to our glorious friendship! – I can be damn sentimental at times. Misha and Sergei's chins trembled treacherously. We clinked glasses, knocked them back and ate. I don’t remember what happened next.

* * *

I woke up from the fact that the legs that were lying on me began to move. Lord, whose are they? One sock is blue, with deer, the second is black, with a hole. “Sergey,” I breathed out with relief. But how did we get to my house? I raised my buzzing head with difficulty. Our jackets lay in a heap in the center of the room. Below them, someone hummed: “Water, water...” - it was Misha. The sun was turning red outside the window. Dawn or sunset? Not clear. With great difficulty I got up from the sofa. The brain was pulsating like a heart. In my mouth I could safely hold the Paris-Dakar race. Misha's head in a Budenovka appeared from under the mountain of jackets. Have we traveled back in time? I stared at my friend, unable to form words into sentences. He was the first to break the silence.

“Are you just going to stare at me like a ram at a new gate, or will you bring some water?”

-What are you doing on the floor? – I said, although to a prying ear it sounded like “A-a-y-o-oo.”

- Water! For God's sake, Yolkin, don't be a fascist!

- I'll bring it now. How did we get to my house?

- Don’t you remember?

- Bring water - you will receive information.

Raising Misha's head, I began to feed him from a glass. Makarov’s teeth tap-danced on the glass.

- The eco has sorted you out, comrade brigade commander. Did you put in a lot of hare yesterday?

- At first everything was bad. We drank, then we drank, then we danced. By the way, you were dancing on the table.

- And I hit the toastmaster in the face.

- For what?

– He called Seryoga a fagot.

- A fagot?!

- Sort of. Laptev dispersed the girls and began dancing around the pole.

“He’s a fagot himself,” came the voice from the sofa.

“Oh, the disco dancer has woken up,” Misha laughed and then sharply grimaced, “Oh, oh, side!” I think my rib is broken.

– What happened then?

“Then the guard came running. Remember that idiot with the glass eye? And he started hitting me.

“And you started to sweep him.”

- Artyom, do you have any beer?

It was the owner of the sock with reindeer who spoke again. With a hangover, Sergei despised water. Groaning, he rose from the sofa and gave a deep hiccup. It took all his strength. But Laptev gathered his will into a fist and courageously fixed a questioning gaze on me. These were not eyes, but drills. I had to answer:

- I don't have beer.

“Then I’ll go.” How much should you take: three, five?

- Let's go in threes, the stall is in the yard. Money on the nightstand.

- Yes, I know. Makar, keep quiet for now, please, I’ll be right back,” Sergei shuffled and rushed into the hallway.

Ignoring Laptev’s request, Makarov continued:

“When we were kicked out of the restaurant, we went to my place, but Svetik began throwing onions at us.

- Well, she didn’t have a bow.

- I brought it.

-Where did you get it?

– I bought half a bag at the restaurant. Crimean, sweetie.

-Have you tried it?

- I had to. Wait, I need to go to the restroom, otherwise I’ll go under myself.

With difficulty overcoming gravity, Makarov rose to his feet and fixed himself. Now he could really use a third leg for balance and stabilization. Taking hesitant steps, he set out on a journey five meters long. It was clear from everything that this grueling marathon required maximum concentration from him. Tormented by curiosity, I continued to ask questions.

– Where did Budenovka come from?

Makarov had already reached the toilet. His answers were accompanied by spurts and moans.

- Ooo. Then we went to the bathhouse for health improvement and prevention colds. Seryozha and I jumped into the pool, and you locked the bath attendant in the steam room.

- So why were you silent?! We need to go open it!

- Late. Oooh, so good.

- He opened the door. I had to make a fool of myself, and he gave me a budenovka for change. Felt, absorbs moisture well.

- Yeah, we had a blast yesterday. You can't say anything.

- That’s it, Svetka! She screwed me over like a kid... - the sound of the water flushing drowned out the next words. - I’ll call her right now and push her like that! I'll take Validol for a week! Give me your phone, otherwise mine is dead.

Mikhail's independence of judgment about the family structure grew in direct proportion to the distance between him and his beloved wife. When Svetik was not around, Makarov was a brutal male, a kind of symbol of sexism and intolerance towards feminine. But as soon as Svetlana appeared on the horizon, the god’s armor cracked, like old paint on the walls of a beer stall.

- Hello, Svetulya! Listen, I’m sorry, my love, that I did that yesterday... Yes... Yes, I didn’t do it on purpose! Why are you starting right away? Oh that's it! Check yourself three times! You went yourself! That's it, we're not flying anywhere! Fly yourself. On a green broom! Wherever you want, that’s it, I don’t care! What?! Go, you know where?! – after these words, Misha slammed his phone against the wall. The wall turned out to be stronger, and the phone went into “very used” condition.

- This is necessary! Yes, no one cursed me like that! He warmed the toad on his chest... Why are you suddenly sad?

– Actually, it was my phone.

- Never mind, I'll buy you a new one. Do you want me to break mine?!

- Uh-uh, Misha. No need…

Hurry! Quantity broken phones in my apartment it doubled.

- Makarov, are you out of your mind? It was my phone! – Sergei emerged from the hallway. – There was even money in the account!

- Yes? I don’t care, I’ll buy you a new one. Soooo, where's my phone?

“I’ll tell you, just don’t hit him.” Artyom, how do you open the lock on your door? Clockwise?

- Haven’t you left yet?

- How can you leave here if everything is walled up?

- The keys are in the hallway.

- It’s not there, I was looking. And he broke a shoehorn along the way.

- How have you not broken your head yet? Look in the jacket.

-Where is she?

- “Where, where.” In the mound under which this phone killer slept.

Laptev walked up to a pile of jackets in the middle of the room and began rummaging through it. Sergei's polished movements revealed him as a second-hand shop lover. Finally he found my jacket and, grunting contentedly, put his hand in his pocket. Suddenly his face took on a soft ashy hue.

- What's happened?

- Artyom, you have... Something round, wet and disgusting there.

- Let's see.

- Guys, maybe it’s not necessary? Let's burn the jacket and that's the end of it?

- Misha, give you free rein, you will smash everything here.

– Decide quickly, otherwise I’ll be sick now.

- Get it.

Slowly, like a sapper, Sergei pulled his clenched fist out of his jacket.

- Open it up.

“I can’t, my fingers are cramping.”

Little by little, finger by finger, we unclenched the fist of our faint-hearted friend. The guard's glass eye lay in the palm of his hand. There was condemnation in his gaze.

- Yes, Artyom, the capital has hardened you. When did you do this?

- I don’t remember, even if you crack it!

– Memory always represses the most terrible things. I'll go wash my hands. Do you have bleach?

The bell rang and we looked at each other.

- Well, that's it, it's behind us. They solder it to us for beautiful eyes“I just can’t,” Seryoga said in a deathly voice.

- No shit, it's my mobile. She didn’t sit down, it turns out! – Mikhail immediately fished out the beeping phone from his night lair.

- Yes, Svetulya, yes, dear... A. Hello, Zinaida Afanasyevna. No, everything is fine with Svetochka. I don't know why she's crying. Maybe I watched a sad movie... Okay, let me explain to you: yesterday I celebrated my arrival with my friends... What? How did you just turn your tongue?! Yes... You know what! You yourself are the most!!!

Jumping like a real goalkeeper, Sergei barely managed to catch Makarov's pipe. We needed communication.

- This su... Zinaida Afanasyevna this! It’s not for nothing that she is her mother, oh, it’s not for nothing! Well, now we definitely won’t fly to Thailand. Let them sit at home, by the window, staring at the snowdrifts.

- Misha, what kind of trip is this?

- Yes, they wanted a mother-in-law New Year take it to Thailand. Exotic and all that. Booked tickets, hotels, excursions. Where to now? It's all down the drain!

Laptev and I exchanged knowing glances. On the one hand, a vacation with my mother-in-law. On the other hand, in the midst of winter, escape from the snow and frost under the rays of the tropical sun and, without caring about anything, lounge on a sun lounger under a palm tree, sipping a cocktail through a straw... Judging by the expression on Sergei’s face, he was now mentally descending the plane’s ramp and, covering eyes with the palm of his hand, peering into the bright green jungle surrounding the airport.

- Yes, it’s a pity that such an adventure is lost...

– It’s warm in Thailand now.

- Yes, it’s always warm there, eh-he-he...

Taking a look at our sour faces, Makarov uttered a phrase that we did not even hope to hear:

– Listen, guys, let’s go to Thailand. Three of us, huh?

Updated: 2017-1-24

Oleg Lazhechnikov

This is my second week driving a car to Samui, and I just can’t figure out what’s wrong. I like it and don’t dislike it, although it seems like the car should be a more comfortable means of transportation. In general, some conclusions can already be drawn. I'm sharing :)

To begin with, I want to say that I have enough driving experience, after all, I have been driving for 13 years: I had to work on a car at one time, and I traveled to Europe, and rode around Russia. What I mean is that I feel quite confident behind the wheel, despite the right-hand drive and left-hand traffic.

Resume

In fact, my conclusion is this regarding movement within the resorts: if you go somewhere to a specific place, then driving a car is quite convenient. But, if you’re just going to look around, look for some store or something interesting along the way, then this is some kind of hard labor. The road is narrow, it’s difficult to stop, because the traffic is following you, often you just fly past, because it’s somehow unethical to drive very slowly. I tried to drive a car just without the purpose of looking around, I saw so many interesting things, because it’s not always convenient to turn around...

But if you’re driving along the highway, on the contrary, it’s a car and only a car. I had a great car ride in the north of Thailand, making circles around Chiang Mai, and had a great time getting from Bangkok to Krabi, Phuket and back. Moreover, while also visiting all sorts of national parks resorts along the way. Once I even slept in the car, got tired and stopped to take a nap for several hours, very comfortable.

When choosing between a bike or a car, people are most often guided by price. But I would still think about driving safety. I know that thousands of people ride a bike, but those are less so to me. Who decides this for themselves, it all depends on personal preferences, budget, fears and experience. So, in essence, these two factors are the determining ones for most people, the choice is yours.

P.S. I would advise that I won’t rent one; I myself like the feeling of riding a bike, but with a child or for long hauls, I personally always choose a car.

Life hack 1 - how to buy good insurance

It’s incredibly difficult to choose insurance now, so I’m making a rating to help all travelers. To do this, I constantly monitor forums, study insurance contracts and use insurance myself.

Lifehack 2 - how to find a hotel 20% cheaper

Thanks for reading

4,75 out of 5 (ratings: 65)

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  - Inna
    - Oleg Lazhechnikov
      Kachubey
      Oleg Lazhechnikov
      Tim
      Oleg Lazhechnikov
      Tim
      Oleg Lazhechnikov

Oleg Lazhechnikov

Kachubey

Ekaterina Batova

Oleg Lazhechnikov

Good afternoon.
Of course, I’ll start with the hotel; the hotel area is not very large, but beautiful.
We lived on the 13th floor, the bed was normal, the room was spacious with a balcony.
The plumbing is old, but everything worked. In general, the room is normal.
Our trip included breakfast, during all this time we only went to breakfast once, the food was terrible, it even seemed to me that there were insects in it, we didn’t go again.
The hotel itself is beautiful and big, the Chinese came to us all the time to look at the tower, there was a restaurant at the top, but everything there was expensive and we didn’t go.
The beach was its own, compared to other hotels like Jamtien, the beach here was very good, much better than the city one, I attach a photo. But of course, if you compare it with the Dominican beach, you can’t compare it, in the Dominican Republic it’s 100% times better, well, it’s the Caribbean.
There was also a water park almost on site, but it was paid, but the water park was cool, worth going.
You leave the hotel and there are many many cafes, we were in all of them, the prices are very low, we liked eating at the Ogonyok cafe every day, everything is very tasty and huge portions, especially Tom Yan soup, and rice with seafood, very tasty. Drinking local Chang beer is also good, we recommend it.
Of course, the whole area smells like sewage throughout Pattaya.
We were almost not at the hotel at all, we rested for 14 days, and in 14 days we tried to travel around a lot interesting places Wherever we have been, in Thailand there are surprisingly very beautiful excursions and all very interesting, we really enjoyed it everywhere.
Excursions we took:
1. The crocodile farm is very interesting, we fed the crocodiles, saw shows and other animals, even tried a crocodile.
2. The excursion to Bangkok was amazing and very interesting, the city is huge, we went to the aquarium and to a restaurant to eat where they filmed the movie Bachelor Party, everything was very tasty.
3. River Kwai 2 days, a simply unreal journey with waterfalls, river rafting, Thai massage and a crazy atmosphere of love.
4. Be sure to visit the Khao KEO Zoo, my husband and I were delighted, we touched everyone and fed all the animals that were there, this is the coolest zoo I’ve ever been to.
5. Nong Nooch Park is a very beautiful place.
6. We also went to the Tiffany show, go to show 69 once and it’s worth visiting, believe me.
7. There was a white imp on the island of Samet, the purest water I advise.
And of course, the most famous street, WALKING STREET, is a must-visit.
We have been and went to many other places, what can I say, if you are going on vacation to Thailand, the hotel is not particularly important, it is so amazing country, that you will never be in a hotel, but in general I recommend our hotel for sleep and relaxation, definitely not for food, but food at the hotel is not needed in Pattaya, everything is very cheap and tasty.
If anyone is interested, write about excursions.

This is the debut book of Anton Lirnik, a famous comedy club member and member of the Chekhov Duet. Main character plans to celebrate the New Year in the company of his parents. But get-togethers with old friends suddenly turn into an overseas voyage. Three friends set foot on the soil of Thailand, escaping from the Ural snows on a tropical island. And when a Russian tourist ends up in a foreign country, adventures naturally begin to bubble up around him: crocodiles and diving, Thai boxing and full moon party, fiery food and ice-cold drinks different levels fortresses... The funniest book of 2014! For all fans of “National Hunt Features” and “The Hangover in Vegas”!

* * *

The given introductory fragment of the book Three in Thailand, not counting the dogs (Anton Lirnik, 2014) provided by our book partner - the company liters.

Chapter Three,

We arrived at Koltsovo airport, having almost recovered from the shock. On the way from the car to the entrance to the terminal, Makarov only looked over his shoulder a couple of times. But at the door he gathered his courage and cheerfully stepped inside, waving his purse like a lord. Laptev trotted after him, clutching his strange package to his chest, and I traditionally brought up the rear. My suitcase acted as a convoy, its wheels rattling on the tiles.

Near the luggage packers, Laptev became agitated:

- We need to pack our luggage.

– What do you have to pack, Seryozha?

A special person on a spinning machine quickly turned Seryozha’s bag into a small shiny watermelon.

We walked like a crane to the reception desk.

“Your passports, please,” said the beauty, smiling at Mikhail alone. Do they have an inkling, or what? We started slapping our pockets, imitating the “Macarena.” Laptev was the first to interrupt the dance:

- I have them...

- Well, come on, you see, the young lady is waiting!

“They are here,” Sergei gloomily showed Misha his watermelon.

- So print it out quickly! Don't delay the process! Just a minute, young lady, everything will be fine now.

Puffing, Laptev tore open the packaging and took our passports out of the package.

- Yeah, and here are the passports. As many as three, hehe, well, there are three of us, well, you understand!

- I’m now...

- Sergey, where are you going? Don't go!

But the Arafat woman had already flashed in the direction of the luggage packer. The girl, frowning slightly, studied the documents.

– Very good, now your tickets, please.

Smiling strained, Makarov began to turn his head in search of Laptev.

- Now, just a minute. Seryozha, where do you go all the time, huh?

– I resealed the package.

- Handsome, where are our tickets?

There was already a queue behind us. Dozens of eyes gently pierced the backs of our heads with their gazes. Having repeatedly torn the plastic cocoon with his nails, Laptev handed the girl the tickets and rushed away again. The girl looked carefully at the tickets and raised her head, encountering our ingratiating smiles. Convinced that the people in front of her were not quite adequate, she switched to a reduced speed of the narration.

- These are the opposite. Tickets. But I need to go from Yekaterinburg to Bangkok.

Makarov howled quietly and turned around, burying himself in Sergei with his next “watermelon” in his hands.

- Laptev! Why the hell did you take return tickets?!

- Like “reverse?”

- Ah... Well... The reverse ones will also be useful to us...

- They are for today! Were you planning to fly to Thailand today and return today?!

– You shouldn’t have rushed me!

– Who rushed you?! There was no need to glue your fingers together instead of doing everything like a human being!

While Misha was kicking Seryozha’s watermelon like a soccer ball, the girl explained to me where to buy tickets for the next flight to Bangkok.

At the box office it turned out that there were no tickets. A little out of breath after the penalty shootout, Misha turned on his charm to the fullest:

– Girl, dear, didn’t you really have a day when you desperately needed to fly to Bangkok? Look again, it's a matter of life and death for that one with his fingers glued together.

– There is one option, but I don’t know if it will suit you...

- Don't languish! If you have to fly standing, then I agree...

– No, you will have to fly sitting, but in business class.

- Soooo, how much does this pleasure cost?

- Forty thousand.

- Fine. Why is it so cheap?

- This is for one.

– The price is in rubles, I hope?

- Certainly.

- Ugh. It's already easier. Make me happy again, is this the cost of a round trip flight?

- No, one.

– So, together there will be 120 thousand. And round trip – 240 thousand rubles. Yes.

There was a pause, and doubt flashed in Makarov’s eyes. But then he apparently imagined himself returning home in the evening - and made up his mind.

- OK. Let's have one-way tickets for now. As a last resort, I will leave them there if they behave badly!

The girl at the front desk looked at our tickets three times before she was sure we didn't have anything mixed up. I was the only one who checked in my luggage. I was the first to approach the metal detector frame. He took off his belt and took out some change from his pockets...

- Man, what is this about you? – The customs officer was fiddling with a glass ball in his hands.

- It's an eye.

- Why do you need it?

- Spare.

– Go ahead, just don’t show it to the children on the plane.

– Do I look like a person who shows something to children?

Misha rang on the frame like a tram at a crossroads. Blowing a stray strand of hair from her forehead, the customs officer asked:

– Man, maybe there’s a metal plate in your head?

- I have nothing in my head.

– Check again, did you take everything out of your pockets?

Makarov shrugged his shoulders and took from his pocket a bunch of keys the size of a large metal hedgehog. Once on the other side of the metal detector, Misha nudged me with his elbow and nodded behind him. Holding my breath, I watched Sergei walk through the frame.

-What do you have in the package?

- Yes, nothing unusual.

- Why did you pack it?

- Isn’t it possible?

- Unpack, please.

– Is this necessary?

– Please unpack your luggage!

With a practiced movement, Sergei tore off the polyethylene peel from the bag. (This is who will peel the oranges for us in Thailand!) Contrary to our fears and the hopes of the customs officer, there was nothing prohibited inside: a cup, a mouse pad, a stationery knife, a Kutuzov bust and a bunch of markers. Obviously, when Laptev quit his job, he took his personal belongings and carried them with him.

– You’ll have to leave the utility knife, it’s a weapon!

- What kind of weapon is this?

“It’s cold, you could easily cut a person with it!”

- Okay, take it. Am I not dangerous now? – Laptev asked sarcastically. The customs officer silently handed him the gutted package.

- Yes, now you are temporarily not dangerous. What's wrong with your fingers? – the customs officer looked suspiciously at Sergei, and then at Misha and me.

– This is innate, comrade officer, we are taking him to Thailand for an operation.

Finally we found ourselves in the international zone. The aromas of perfume and coffee hung in the air. Where should a jaded gentleman go: to a bar or to duty-free? The triumphant Laptev turned his head in all directions.

- Friends, I'm going to the smoking room.

- Seryoga, you don’t smoke!

– I don’t smoke tobacco. But was I in vain doing these distracting maneuvers on the frame?

Laptev, with a practiced movement, took a small plastic cigarette case from his pocket and showed us its contents. When I realized what kind of cargo our crazy friend carried through customs, the hair on my back turned gray. Inside the cigarette case were three joints decorated with colored stripes. Sergei began to explain:

– Red is “Arrows of Cupid”, blue is “Macaque Macaque”, and black is “Whisper of the Wind”.

- And what does this mean?

– “Macaque Macaque” increases aggressiveness. “Arrows of Cupid” is conducive to romance...

– Why do you need this on a plane? - Misha climbed in.

– ...And “Whisper of the Wind” is soothing! That's it. Who's with me?

- Nobody! Go already, you fucking nerd! – Makarov turned Seryoga towards the toilet, and he cheerfully walked away. We looked after him, sensing something was wrong.

– What if he mixes it up and smokes “Macaque Macaque”?

“The knife was taken away from him.” If it rages, we’ll tie it up.

Having released Laptev to face his demons, we decided to go the traditional route and stocked up on tequila and rum at duty-free. After standing in a short line, we approached the checkout.

“Girl, put one more on each of our bags,” I asked.

- Why is this?

“And last time my handles broke off on the ladder.” The tequila broke, I had to lick it right off the steps, without lime or salt.

Leaving Misha to pay, I went to the bar. Sergei was already there. He was enthusiastically telling the busty barmaid something. Judging by the burning eyes, our herb lover finally came across the “Arrows of Cupid”. OK. He didn’t hit anyone or run around in a sheet, that’s already luck. However, the barmaid had something to listen to:

– ...That day we bombarded the plasma with fast neutrons. I was one step away from a sensational discovery. All that remained was to check the crystal lattices...

The speaker had a glass of cognac glistening in his hand. Obviously, the glass was full not long ago.

– Isn’t it a little early, Sergei Stepanovich?

- The statute of limitations expired just yesterday. Now I can tell the world about the terrible tragedy that happened to Professor Salye.

- Is that you? – the girl blinked at me in surprise. I didn’t have time to answer, Laptev did it for me.

- What? No, this is Artyom Ilyich, my colleague. And this is Luda.

- It's noticeable.

– Artyom Ilyich is a fifth generation nuclear physicist. So I'll continue. On that terrible day...

I looked at Sergei with caution. I don’t know what they sold him there under the name “Arrows of Cupid,” but drastic changes took place in Laptev. From a skinny nerd he turned into heroic personality: the posture corrected, the metal rang in the voice, the eyes of the Nobel laureate lit up with genius.

– ... on that terrible day, Professor Salye and I worked in the accelerator elementary particles. Everything had somehow gone wrong since the morning. My hands were shaking from overwork...

- So, what happened? – People were bursting with curiosity. I decided to join the performance and picked up the thread of the conversation:

– Just at that moment I was supposed to bring a special stimulant to Sergei Stepanovich and was already approaching the door of the accelerator, and then... sorry, Luda, tears are choking me, pour me some rum...

“And I’ll have some rum, Lyudochka.”

– Maybe you won’t interfere, Sergei Stepanovich?

- To whom? To you? What? So I'll continue. As soon as Artyom Ilyich approached the accelerator door, a terrible explosion sounded. I was thrown towards the reactor, and the professor, oh, sorry, he, he...

“We couldn’t save him.” And after falling into the reactor core, Sergei Stepanovich’s fingers fused together. And on his feet...

- What's wrong with your legs? – Misha, heavily laden with packages, approached the bar.

“And this is Mikhail Matveevich, Doctor of Technical Sciences,” I nudged Misha with my elbow and whispered: “We are nuclear physicists, play along.”

– Mikhail Matveevich, we just wanted to remember Professor Salye.

A tear crawled down Luda’s cheek. Makarov blinked, not getting into the situation. Laptev theatrically rolled his eyes, and I decided that it was time to put an end to history.

- Lyudochka, there is no need to cry. We did this for the sake of civilians like you. And in memory of the professor, I carry this with me,” the glass eye of the Kolosok restaurant security guard hit the bar counter. Letting out a short sob, the barmaid fainted.

At the entrance to the plane, the flight attendant glanced askance at our overfilled bags and reminded us that drinking alcoholic beverages on board was prohibited. Misha was sincerely, childishly surprised:

– What else do you want to do with them? Pouring on the floor and launching boats?

- Soon they will introduce a rule, and you will hand over the bottles to the crew for storage!

- And who will keep them, captain? – Misha did not give up.

- No, the captain is a little busy during the flight! Other people will do this.

- We could be them! Will you take half the bet?

- If I see you drinking, there will be a scandal! – the flight attendant turned on the inexorability.

– What if I provide you with an erotic service? – Misha was in his repertoire.

– What service?

- I'll show you my breasts!

- Yes, at least three!

Flying sober is a perversion. What's wrong with business class? The fact that the flight attendant sits right across from you and doesn’t take her little evil eyes off you. The thimbles of champagne that she gave us ran out immediately. There were no new ones. Boredom and anger settled on our armrests.

- This is just some kind of bullshit! - Misha was fuming.

I was on edge myself, but I tried to distract him:

“But we fly business class behind a mysterious curtain.” And for lunch, instead of a plastic bun, we will be given a piece of meat.

- I don't eat meat! – Sergei Stepanovich added fuel to the fire, which completely drove me crazy.

- Then eat your plastic bag!

- It's not cellophane. And polyethylene! And anyway, why are you so angry?

- Because, unlike you, Cupid’s arrows escaped us!

- It's your own fault. I suggested it to you. By the way, I still offer it now.

– Sergey, we won’t smoke drape on the plane!

– Misha, don’t narrow the range of pleasures. While you were stocking up on tequila, I bought a bottle of gin and two liters of tonic. And now I have two liters of very strong gin and tonic. In a tonic bottle, you can’t fault it! Voila!

Misha looked at Sergei, and in this look I saw how he granted Laptev forgiveness for all his past and some future sins. The plane began to accelerate, and we did it at the same time. By the time Yekaterinburg disappeared behind a veil of clouds, we were covered with the strongest gin and tonic in the world.

I woke up to a seagull landing on my chest. Where am I? It smelled like the sea. Since the last thing I remembered was the plane, I immediately felt sick. Have we really fallen? But how could I sleep through this? I think the process must have been noisy: screams, roar of engines, impact water surface. The floor beneath me vibrated. I drove away the seagull with a loud wheeze, and with difficulty raised my buzzing head. Misha was lying under a tarpaulin nearby, he was unusually quiet. Suddenly a hand fell on my shoulder. I didn’t have the strength to flinch and look around nervously, so I slowly turned the universe around me. Seryozha stood in front of me and held out a can of beer. This means that the plane did not crash: after the crash, beer is not given out.

-Where are we? – I asked after the third sip of beer and the second breath of air.

- On the ferry, we go to Koh Phangan.

- Oh, my God. How did we get on the ferry?

– First we boarded the plane.

- I remember that.

“Then you drank and you went to the toilet.”

“I don’t know this, because then we didn’t touch you.” Towards the end of the flight, I began to feel restless with a slight admixture of anxiety. And Misha went to the pilots.

- To ask if you fell out. Then we found you. You were just telling the flight attendant about nuclear fusion and suggested that they do it.

– What “why?”

– Why are you telling me everything in such detail?

- Okay, I can tell you briefly.

- Come on, otherwise your details make me feel ashamed. Short!

Laptev took a sip of beer and briefly recounted the events of the last hours. Namely:

1) how at the Bangkok airport Misha was capricious and demanded to speed up passport control;

2) how I didn’t want to be photographed for a visa and made faces like a petty demon;

3) how we were in a daze while the plane (already different) was carrying us from Bangkok to the coast;

4) how the locals took pictures with us;

5) how Sergei collected money for this attraction;

6) how with the collected money he bought beer, tickets for the bus to the ferry and for the ferry itself.

“Water,” came a voice from below. Misha came to his senses. Sergei started feeding him beer like a little chick.

- Misha, remember how eager you were to drive the bus when we were driving from the airport?

- Lapota, are you out of your mind?! I don’t have a category for a bus.

- It wasn’t. And now there is! Here you go. You took away the driver's license. You just need to change the photo.

- It's all because of you! He pumped us up with his gin and tonic. Cocktail, cocktail! So we turned into cattle.

- Have you transformed?!

- Phangan! - shouted a sailor who emerged from somewhere and, smiling, pointed into the distance. The outlines of an island immersed in greenery appeared straight ahead. He was wonderful. (An island, of course, not a sailor).

At the pier, all the tourists instantly fled, and we were left alone. Winter jackets and hats in our hands gave us a marauding look. A side-eyed Thai woman came up to me and handed me a hotel booklet with a bow.

- No, no, thanks. We need hotel “Russian star”, how can we get there?

In response, the Thai woman muttered something in the local dialect. Misha winced with displeasure.

-What does she want? Hey, Seryoga, you know their language, tell your aunt to fuck off.

- Souwa tii. Souwa tii!

– Don’t delay, ask how we can get to our hotel.

– Misha, I’ve only learned “good afternoon” so far. The rest is with the dictionary.

- What a sheep you are, with a dictionary! Okay, let’s go to her already, otherwise I don’t have the strength,” Misha gave up unexpectedly quickly. We certainly had no desire to argue, so we quietly got into the car offered by our aunt, drove to some hotel, made our way to our beds and fell asleep in the sleep of Stakhanovites.

Thailand is a wonderful sunny country in Southeast Asia. Jungles, beaches, monks, elephants, coconuts and beauties capture your consciousness immediately and irrevocably, displacing fatigue and negativity. Any foreigner who arrives in Thailand is filled with strength, health and energy. The main thing is not to be confused or at least figure out where the floor is and where the ceiling is. But not everyone can do this. As one of my friends said: “Man is weak... but port is strong.”

Having opened my eyes, I did not immediately understand where I was and where I was going. biological species I belong. But I realized that this was my third hangover in three days, and I didn’t like this kind of arithmetic. I had to get up and warm up, but I only had enough strength to roll my eyes. I looked around and realized that we were in a hotel. Then I sniffed. Can you imagine what a hotel room is like, consisting of beds, a bedside table and three men who have not washed for several days and were pumped up with alcohol? The air in this room can be cut with a knife and stacked against the wall like bricks. It’s good that we couldn’t take off our shoes before going to bed. It was unbearably hot and unbearably stuffy. A bead of sweat slowly crawled down my temple.

- Hello! How are you? Wake up and go to the beach with us! – These sounds were made by a talking head. She was in the doorway. And, most likely, it was attached to the body. The tanned face was adorned with a loose nose covered with a network of blue veins. While I was thinking, the body and head were reunited, and the stranger completely entered the door. It would be better if he didn't do this. His barrel-shaped body rested on crooked legs, and his long arms intimately covered his knees. The man was extremely hairy, as if he was preparing to join the Dagestan wrestling team. Maybe it's the local animator?

“Water…” came from below. I felt déjà vu. Misha traditionally depicted the soil in our ecosystem, elegantly merging with the floor.

- Hi! I am Tom, do you need some help? - No, this is clearly not an animator. With such a nose, he would have been kicked out immediately after being accepted. Hearing the incomprehensible English speech, Misha expressively dropped his head to the floor and mumbled in helpless despair.

– Hey Claire! Maybe you can help them? – Tom turned around and called someone. Now we admired his ass, covered in red shorts. The underwear featured a picture of a monkey eating a banana. I felt sick.

A moment later a lady appeared at the door. Her face retained traces of its former beauty, which were lost among the countless hemp. A tattoo of the famous Rolling Stones tongue on her shoulder and a T-shirt with a shamrock marked her as a social rebel. Slender, almost skinny Claire next to the stocky and hairy Tom looked like a dystrophic gypsy next to his trained bear.

– Tom, shame on you! Leave the guys alone, let's go! - The door slammed, the strange guests disappeared, and I could no longer guarantee that I didn’t dream them. I stared at Misha, and he looked at me, just like at the end of scenes in soap operas, when the actors run out of text.

-Where are we? And what kind of freaks were they breaking in on us, huh? And why am I lying on the floor and you are on the beds? – Like Julius Caesar, Misha did three things at once: he lay, was indignant and filled the room with fumes.

- Misha, don’t make noise, your head is already cracking! – I begged.

– Is your head throbbing? And my whole body is shaking! It’s necessary to throw the trip investor on the floor like a dog! By the way, where is Seryozha?

“Uh-uh,” came from the other bed. It was difficult to understand what Laptev was doing: either he was repeating the alphabet from the end, or he was trying to tell us something.

– Laptev, use consonants, it will be easier! – with a hangover my sarcasm triples.

- Oh, I found it. If only he had spoken, Makarov began to gradually try to get up.

- Uh... it was you who fell on the floor, I put you back down three times yesterday, and you yelled that it wasn’t so hot on the floor! – Sergei’s speech returned. – I don’t know who these two are. But judging by their accent, they are from Britain.

We later found out that Tom and Claire are indeed from England. They come to Thailand every year and vacation on the island of Koh Phangan for several months. British social guarantees and a carefree life have turned these elderly recreational lovers into ideal consumers of local alcohol and soft drugs. And when we started telling them about Russian realities, they laughed until they dropped. With their mouths open like cuckoos, they expected new stories from us during the evening gatherings. True, this did not happen often, since by the evening this couple usually cleaned up the trash, destroying the persistent myth about the prim Englishmen.

I began to look around the room. Imagine that you got into the elevator on the first floor, went down, but instead of underground parking, you drove a little further and ended up in hell. The room reminded me of the rest room at the regional bus station. Usually in such cesspools there are four armored beds with lumpy mattresses. Three of them are constantly staffed by: a) a drunkard supply worker, b) a prisoner who has escaped from the zone, and c) a sergeant who came to the military registration and enlistment office for recruits and has not regained consciousness for three days. At a rugged table, they drink burnt vodka with a label stuck upside down. The bottle was sold to them by the administrator (the owner of a giant bouffant of henna-dyed hair). She also placed basins under the beds. Life experience- a great thing.

But let's return to Thailand. There were no basins in our room, but there was air conditioning! Without getting out of bed, Sergei stretched his leg and clicked the regulator on the wall. A stream of cold air burst out of the device with a howl and pressed Laptev into the bed. The flimsy bed creaked beneath him. Looking at this, Misha laughed hoarsely and, groaning, rose from the floor. He stretched, and the cracking of his joints reminded him of a pioneer fire.

- So. First, I need a bottle of beer from the refrigerator.

Naive. It's hard to look for beer in the refrigerator when you don't have a refrigerator. It took Misha twenty seconds to realize this. But he did not calm down.

- Laptev, where is my purse?

“Turn off the air conditioner,” Sergei wheezed barely audibly. After the click of the switch, silence came to the room in the assortment.

– Thank you, Misha, this is not an air conditioner, but some kind of jet engine.

- Don't go off topic. Purse.

- She’s in the toilet... I hid her... To be safe.

– You have a very strange idea of reliability! Phew, what a heat... - with these words Misha went to the bathroom, closer to the water. Soon he jumped out of there and sat on the bed, clutching the purse to his chest. With this look, the anxious mothers of provincials entering the institute sit in the rector’s waiting room.

- Misha, what happened, did you see Elvis?

- Everything is fine?

- Not sure.

I quietly looked into the bathroom. Several green lizards the size of large sausages were staring at me from the walls and ceiling. One of the lizards drank water from a tap (which, judging by the thickness of the stream, suffered from prostatitis). There were several scary black cracks in the wall, like in a ZIL radiator. Then it turned out that the holes were made for ventilation. There were also ventilation slots in the ceiling, only even wider. Apparently, air molecules in Thailand are much larger than in Russia.

- Seryoga, there are a lot of lizards there, and they are looking at me. – Without taking my eyes off the reptiles, I took a couple of steps back.

- Thank God, otherwise I thought that I was starting to have a nap! I’ve already sewn in a “torpedo” in my mind.

“These are geckos, they do room service,” said Sergei, who had begun to walk upright.

- How is this?

– Geckos eat ants, and ants eat crumbs. The room is clean, everyone is happy.

– Do they roll a swan out of a towel or do they need to coat the dollar? - Misha scoffed.

- No, they just clean it up. food chain at the service of tourism.

– Artyom, don’t you think our friend is delusional? Laptev, did you go crazy again while we were sleeping?

“This is Asia, geckos live everywhere here,” I supported Sergei.

“I live here, not some fucking geckos!” And I’m also going to punch everyone who works here in the face!

Misha resolutely pulled himself front door. And then he slammed it shut. In front of us was again the mother from the rector's reception.

- Guys, there's an elephant!

- Pink?

“See for yourself, young naturalist.”

I looked out the door and froze, not finding the hotel corridor there. Instead there was solid wallpaper. Not the wallpaper that comes in rolls, but wallpaper from my colleague Tatyana’s monitor. The door of the room opened onto a lawn with emerald green grass. This lush greenery was crossed by a path sprinkled with reddish gravel. Palm trees rustled directly overhead; some giant plants with large, fleshy leaves huddled against their trunks. The air was filled with the smell of jungle, sun and ocean, which began just beyond the palm trees. Its waves impressively butted with the whitish sandy beach. On the beach itself there were sun loungers, and people lay motionless on them, some even female. One of the girls erotically scratched her stomach and pressed her lips to the cocktail. Besides me, an elephant was watching the girl. He stood a hundred meters from our bungalow. True, he was not pink, but with ears, a trunk and a pile of manure under his tail. To the left, Laptev leaned out of the doorway.

- What, you didn’t expect it? We are not in a hotel with corridors where groggy fellow countrymen are spilling out of the rooms. This is a bungalow in the jungle, with the sea at your doorstep! We are in heaven, gentlemen!

Sergei’s mentoring tone began to irritate even such a calm person as me. And he generally drove Misha to a white heat. Because, due to health reasons, Makarov at that moment ignored all the good, concentrating on the bad:

– This is not paradise, but a wooden tent! I didn’t shell out a ton of money just so lizards and elephants would run all over me! Where is the reception? - and he rushed across the lawn to central building hotel. We are behind him. These were our first conscious steps on Thai soil.

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