The Beacon

Saturday night seems to mean dinner out. So I walked home from the editing room in a light snowfall.


Marius always says he'll pick me up in his car but he never does. I end up hailing a gypsy cab. I had practiced exactly what to say and how to say it. It should have been a slam dunk. "Pvrashaya prudi." I mean, it's nothing. But sometimes you lean into the car and give it your best "Pvrashaya prudi" and all you get back is a blank stare and cold eyes in which you can swear you hear, "You...are...an...idiot."

The plan was to meet Sophie Shevaradnadze and Pasha at the Pavillion. But when I got there I ran into Fwad's sister and her husband. But no Marius and no Sophie. I called Marius and he garbled that there had been a change of plans and that he was at the Academia restaurant. Fwad's sister and her husband would give me a ride to the restaurant then they were off to meet a friend at Pushkin.

At Academia, Marius and I waited and ordered and soon Sophie showed up, having just gotten off the air. You may remember that she is an anchor on the English language station RUSSIA TODAY. In any case, Sophie can't put down her phone for a second so half the time she's texting someone.


Alright, so then Pasha shows up. But he seems like he's in a funk. Because he is in a funk. It's not long before Uma Thurman shows up. Of course not the Uma Thurman. But a friend of Pasha's who bears a resemblance to Uma. So people frequently call her Uma. But her real name is Olga.


Okay so try to keep up. And remember, Pasha's in a funk. So... Pasha like Olga. Olga likes Pasha. Sophie likes Marius. Marius likes Marina. But Pasha really likes Masha. Yuri also likes Masha. And reportedly, Masha is giving Yuri the go sign. So while Pasha likes Olga and Olga likes Pasha, Pasha is ignoring Olga because he is pining for Masha -- who is reportedly giving the Yuri the go sign. Olga is losing patience with Pasha. Masha is unaware of Pasha. Sophie once almost married a man with a limp. Pasha could have Olga and yet he wants Masha. Olga feels like a friend but wants more than a friendship. And reportedly Masha is giving Yuri the go sign. And that's why Pasha is in a funk.

Sophie has a friend named Sabbath. I don't remember her first name. But she was having a birthday party at a club called:


Not sure why but so many places around here are named the number of their street address. Seems kind of lazy. But maybe that's just me.


So having piled into Olga's M Class Benz, we took the road running along the bank of the Moscow River to 1171 so as to drop in on Somebody Sabbath's birthday party. That's Olga, Marius, Sophie, Fwad, Pasha and myself. But let me just take a wee detour to say that Olga was the designated driver for the evening, which I found a particular frustration. I think I should be the designated driver since I love driving in different countries. It's the number one way to learn the city. But no. Anyway, that's my protest.


So you got a dayglo wrist band which gave you access to the mezzanine over the dance floor. It was here on the crowded mezzanine that Sabbath's Sabbath party was happening. Below was some anemic dancing. And on a separate balcony was the DJ with some variant of exotic dancer writhing around in lame' scantiness.


After a (very) short while, Pasha's funk got the better of him. He left. Not long after, Sophie and Olga wanted to leave. So we made our way back out to the M Class.


Sophie had to be on the air in the morning so she decided it was best for her to go home. I tried to go home but Marius cajoled me into staying. So off I went with Marius, Fwad and Olga to a place called The Beacon.


Up these stair is a warm room with what must be the strongest tables in all of Moscow. Because people dance on them. I don't mean to say that The Beacon has Dancers. What they have are young Moscovites who like to drink vodka and dance on tables. As the video below clearly illustrates.



I've said it before, I'll say it again, Moscow is a second-hand smoke nightmare. I may have to shave my head in order to get the smoke smell out. But it was fun just being in the middle of this place, this place where there was so much exhuberance and where every girl is blessed with perfect cheekbones.


Nothing obscene going on here. It's just that the guy on the left passed out onto his buddy's lap.

So The Beacon... Exactly the kind of place where you have always imagined that, as people dance and sing along to the music, five guys at a corner table are hatching the first seeds of revolution.