What I did during my summer vacation, part 2: Cops and Hickersons

As I was saying before, we needed to move some cash from Point A to Point B. This invariably brought us to the police, but not because of, like, a need for security or anything. I got cash from a cop because I paid cash to their relative in Moscow.

Volodya was a policeman; he also had a side job selling processed wood in Barabashova Market, the largest open-air market in Kharkov. Think of it as a Home Depot + Wal Mart + Target + Sams Club + a couple of Safeways, without any walls or ceilings. We were pretty sure Volodya’s wood selling income was 4-5 times his police salary, since state employees salaries in Ukraine are basically crap.

But today, Volodya was all about the police part of his life as I counted out several stacks of hundreds in the front of his truck. He didn’t have his uniform on, but he was full of stories. You know the type; other people tell stories like ‘This one time, in band camp…’ but Volodya’s stories were all ‘This one time, this guy stole from this other guy…’

In short, after I was finished counting and he had told six or seven of those stories, he turns to us, and says, ‘You want to call a cab?’

‘Hell yeah, Columbo,’ was all I had to say.

… to be continued …

Posted via web from Hooray for the bleeding edge

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