We've Shared a Life: America Meets Russia

A Hot Roof...

Here's the scenario: I sat in my room last night, after holding my TOEFL class, and was writing a short story on my laptop. The writing had taken on its own life and I was completely enthralled with it. My mind was wondering over what would happen next in the story or what the hell the story was going to be about in the first place. You see, I've had a new feeling of inspiration lately, especially when it comes to stories, so the last few nights I've been working on my writing. There I was then just writing and enjoying the whole processes; I wasn't paying attention to anything except that. I had been writing for about an hour when all the sudden I heard a sound that was not natural for the atmosphere of my room. Of course, at first, I blew it off as coming from the music that I had playing on the laptop, but then I heard it again and knew for sure it wasn't from the music. The sound was the mixture between a pop and a hiss. Deep inside, I knew this couldn't be good. Not wanting to, I sat my laptop down on the couch and looked focused my attention on the room. Again, I heard the sound this time a little louder, but this time I also saw, from the corner of my eyes, a flash. I had just enough time to tilt my head up and witness as the light fixture in my room popped loudly sending sparks flying through the air, right on top of me I might add, and then catch on fire. Yes, the light fixture actually caught on fire, I'm not making this up. Luckily, I've had my fair share of close calls with fires, so this didn't frighten me too much. I jumped up from the couch, well that actually happened when I was being attacked by the sparks, and ran to the light switch turning it off. Now I don't know if this was the smartest thing to do -I'm not an electrician- but the building still stands so it might have helped. Once the power was off, I ran under the fixture and saw that two small flames were enjoying their moment. Yet with one swift gust of my breath I extinguished both flames...

Okay, I thought to myself, you may have avoided your room being the first to catch on fire but what if there is some sort of electrical problem that will make the whole building catch on fire. This thought rolled over in my head for sometime, but what was I to do? If I ran downstairs and tried to tell anyone they wouldn't understand what I was saying and I sure in the hell couldn't explain what just happened in Russian. So I did what I do best here and that was to relay on someone else. I tried calling Lucy, who lives close to me and is my big sister, for she would come and help. But damn the luck, she was already asleep and had her phone turned off. I finally got hold of Galina, who called down to the lobby and told them what was taking place. They sent a stout man to check on it. As I opened the door of my room for the man, the thought crossed my mind that he looked like Mario (you know, from the Nintendo Game). He walked in suddenly, saying hello, and then walked to the light switch. Being like any man, thinking that the other person was just imagining what had just taken place, he switched on the light switch again. This only caused the fixture to spark again, popping ever so lightly. Mario, let's just call him that, looked back at me and smiled shrugging his shoulders. He turned the light off and walked out the room, motioning me to wait one minute. When he returned, he carried a chair in with him, which he positioned underneath the fixture. Climbing on top of the chair and then standing on his tip toes, he inspected the fixture. Mubbling something which of course I could not decipher, he climbed off the chair and walked out the room again. When he returned, he wore a bright (well at least in spirits) smile on his face and was chuckling under his breath. Knowing that I didn't speak Russian, because Galina had made them aware of that when she called them, he began to speak with me. He spoke very slowly and pronounced each of his words clearly and slowly. This did help me in comprehending what he was saying. He told me, in Russian of course, that there was nothing to worry about, and that they would fix it in the morning. Using not only his language but also his movements, he informed me that I was to drop my key off in the lobby in the morning and sign a book, which would give them permission to come into my room and fix it. I understood him, I actually understood all he was telling me and it wasn't just because he was playing sherades. Certain words and phrases he used I was familiar with, so the whole meaning was there for me. Although I was pretty upset by what had happened because I had had a horrible day anyway, I was happy that I was able to comprehend a whole conversation in Russian.

The room is fine now, although I still don't have light in it but that is to be fixed today; no one was hurt, unless you consider my nerves being shot a form of pain; and I was able to understand what I was being told, when I know very little Russian. I guess it could have been worse...isn't that what you're suppose to tell yourself when things are crappy but you're still alive?

posted by James @ 10:28 AM