While Odessa and Kiev are beautiful cities, the trip was marred by bad luck and bad planning. In addition to the tension of the recent problems in the east, Bob and I spent far too much time sitting in one place drinking, and he simply jumped on the first whores that approached him, usually regretting it afterwards. (There seemed to be two kinds of Ukrainian girls -- those who were dismissive of foreigners, and those who wanted $100 to sleep with foreigners.)
On the next-to-last day that we were in Odessa, we went to the nude beach near Arcadia. It was mostly guys, of course, but it was still an interesting experience. Then we had dinner at a cliffside restaurant and walked onto the main strip in Arcadia.
Bob started hitting on girls left and right, and after a dozen or so flat rejections, he finally met some girls from a village who didn't mind some male companionship.
They were going into a club and they invited us along.
I decided to go home.
Yeah, I know. Old guy. No fun anymore. The main thing was that I had a rash on my crotch from the salt water and sand at the beach, and being the oldest guy in the club is bad enough even if you're dressed nicely, but with swimming trunks and a t-shirt and sandals on, after a day of drinking beer in the sun, it just seemed like a dumb idea.
I was in bed by 1:00am.
I woke the next morning at 10:00am to find the following messages from Bob on my phone:
1:20am One of these girls want to go with you, come back
1:40 am Dude you bailed the dark chick was yours FO FREE!
1:45 am Your absence created a dynamic in which I could not get laid!
1:48 am The blonde needed the dark haired chick taken away, because she was married, she didn't wan't her friends to see her go with anybody
2:45 am Well the cops ripped me off for 50 bucks for getting a handjob in the garden
2:50 am Wish you had stayed
3:00 am Fucking Odessa!
(Here he included a picture of the club -- which seemed to be mostly men.)
3:30 am So the girl didn't want to sit with me, I was offended and walked away and in that moment her purse and phone was stolen.
3:35 am While she danced
3: 40 am Jesus Fucking Jiminy Christ, how much worse can my fucking luck be in this Goddamned city
4:00 am I'm going to go fucking kill somebody
4:01 am If you don't hear from me, just board the plane without me
Nonetheless, I called and he was okay, and he managed to get checked out of his hotel and meet me at 12:00 looking not too much worse for wear. We were taking the train back to Kiev that day, at 3:00pm.
"Are you wanted for murder?" I asked. "Are we fugitives?"
"No no," he said. "Nothing like that."
"What did you do after you wrote this last message?" I said, as we toted our bags down towards the train station.
"I went back into the club, I figured I had to take somebody home. I mean, really."
"So I hit on a couple more, but then finally, well, I went up to the girl who ... probably the ugliest girl in the club, Most people would say that."
"Now that's what I call strategy. How horrible was she?"
"Well, you know. Fat. Bad breath. But I mean, she was grateful. It wasn't that bad. She was enthusiastic."
"And you didn't have to pay her."
"Well, I did give her some money," he admitted. "It wasn't much though, like $20."
"That was nice of you."
We trailed off into thoughtful hungover silence.
"Well, you know," I finally said. "What if, you die and go to heaven? And it turns out that God is a fat chick."
"Hmmm," he said.
"And you are welcomed in, and God says to you, my son, my true disciple, you did what I created mankind to do, to make fat girls happy."