Heroic fishing with obstacles - 3!!!

Well, fellow Heroes fans and those who sympathize with us. As they say, the time for amazing stories has come. Your humble servant might have perished in the dusty back alleys of the capital, but fate, as is known, favors God's fools. We met with Stepan Razin—err, Browser—strictly according to plan, at 18-00 at the Minsk station. The train to Moscow departed at 18-57, which gave us a chance to grab a bite at the cafe and stock up minimally at the shop. We bought the freshest sausages, some bread, and energy drinks. Upon entering the carriage, we were blessed by the warmth and light of fate, for the conductors were each fairer than the other—Alla and Veronika, both twenty years of age, whose kind hearts graced our journey. Without a second thought, Lizard brought out some fine whiskey, receiving an approving glance from Browser. We asked the blushing conductors for tea glasses. Alla (or Veronika, they were one light): "Would you like them with glass holders?" Browser: "Of course, to make it epic!" And they took a photo of us holding the glasses with holders, filled with a toxic green "alarm clock" cocktail (1/3 whiskey + 1/3 apple juice + 1/3 Burn). I'll post the photo later. The girls were quite keen to continue the conversation in a more intimate setting after passing through the Smolensk province; however, Lizard, a brainless peasant, having drunk quite a bit, decided at the wrong time to start bellowing songs in the vestibule, ostentatiously clutching his guitar like a handheld machine gun. The train manager stormed in and harshly scolded the conductors for such indecency, subsequently deciding to monitor the situation personally. Lizard tried to prove something to these high-ranking train officials, but it was too late to drink the "alarm clock." He was inevitably sent to bed, and the poor Belarusians never got to experience the charms of the maidens. Stepan didn't seem too angry, as Konstantin sincerely admitted to a glaring mistake. We were met at the Moscow station by DD himself, a man of two big letters, as is known. Lizard blanked out again, forgetting a bag of sausages in the carriage, but at the last signal, running like a letter from the front, he managed to snatch the sausage from the hands of either Alla or Veronika from the departing train. We headed to DD's home, where delicious delicacies and epic stories awaited us. The Chairman, appearing under the eternally true pretext of being the designated driver, retired to sleep with dignity. We, meanwhile, sipped wonderful drinks. DD and Browser had noble cognac, while Lizard had red wine. Later, Lizard was given the divine Khvanchkara itself, which especially graced his fate and protected him from all hardships 100%. The base in Litvinovo was indescribably pleasing: the house is magnificent, the sauna is luxurious, the company is brilliant, and the lake is excellent. I don't know about others, but Lizard found no downsides and wouldn't even dare to look for any. The organizers are magnificent, in stark contrast to Lizard himself. The real adornment of the event were the wonderful children: Stinger's daughter, six-year-old Dasha, and the son of a comrade named Vlad, five-year-old Sasha. They permanently created a feeling of soulful celebration; moreover, in the morning, they professionally and deftly squeezed the only fish caught in those days from a local fisherman. The holy martyr Carp was shown to everyone with genuine joy, then took a human shower and went onto the fire. The carp turned out to be delicious and complemented the meat dishes perfectly. But all good things must end, and the time to depart arrived. Browser and Lizard were taken to the station. Then, lo and behold, there was no trace of the tickets. Stepan, epically dressed in military uniform, downed a drink in the nearest cafe, bought a new ticket, and relaxed to the max. Konstantin, however, was not sold a ticket because he had brought no documents with him. He thought, one country, brothers, etc. Browser managed to get on the train with great difficulty, but Lizard, no matter how much he pleaded with the train manager or tried to shove millions of Belarusian currency into his hand, remained on the platform. Without a ticket, without convertible currency, with a phone that only had poorly functioning SMS roaming. The messages didn't reach Stinger in time, and the other numbers saved were outdated. With nothing left to do, the pea-brained simpleton trudged toward the Moscow metro. They demanded 40 rubles for a single trip. But there were only twenty in his wallet. And nobody wanted to take the Belarusian ones. Lizard remembered that in a secret pocket of the wallet there was a souvenir dollar, never intended for exchange in peacetime. But peacetime vanished on the platform, and Kostya exchanged this dollar with some hustler selling SIM cards for thirty Russian rubles. It became fifty, and Kostya headed to Varshavskaya metro station, to the dwelling of the savior of lost Heroes souls—DD. Kostya arrived at Varshavskaya and realized he didn't remember the house number, only a visual image of the courtyard, of which there are dozens in the nearby area. For three hours, he walked every inch of the place in bath slides with a guitar in his hand. He started sending SMS to everyone in a row, saying "SOS, I'm lost." The fact that twilight had fallen in Moscow added to the panic. A solution came to his brick-head: Kostya went to an MTS communication center and asked to log into Skype from his account. Thus, information about the lost Lizard reached DD, who sent an SMS with the house number, after which he himself appeared on the horizon, like a true witness of Jehovah. They dragged me, the poor wretch, into a familiar apartment, washed me up, gave me tea, and settled me in to watch football. They came up with a departure scheme. In the morning, we went to the ill-fated station, where DD bought a ticket in his own name using his own passport. Upon entering the carriage, Lizard brazenly and outrageously presented someone else's passport, while simultaneously looking ostentatiously toward the Sun to hide his face as much as possible. Then he stepped aside to say goodbye to DD and inconspicuously returned the passport to the conductors. Then he slipped into the carriage and fell asleep for a most pleasant half-day. It was Monday. I traveled almost the entire way alone in the compartment. Waking up fully around 15-00, already in Belarus, Konstantin desired to eat in the dining car, where again he was the sole visitor and was served like a state nobleman from the noble provinces. Stepping onto the platform of the Minsk station, with the smile of Behemoth the cat, he tossed a "gg wp" to the bewildered conductors and departed swiftly. Thanks to everyone for everything! A special thanks to DD, of course, for only God knows where I would be now if not for him. Until we meet again ;) !