Vodka 101 aftermath
If statistics are on my side, none of the 8 people who joined me last night for some revelry at St. Petersburg Cafe should be having a headache or any other hangover side effects. By now, I have introduced about 45 people or so into the art of imbibing vodka Russian style and only one of them had a hangover. So, those commies knew what they were doing, at least as far as boozing was concerned.
In a way, it was a classic 6 degrees or separation sort of scene. There were my wife and I, 3 of my new physician friends, an ex coworker with her boyfriend and a friend I made at Pete's. Elizabeth (the woman I met at Pete's) turned out to have a connection to my ex co-worker (Hillary) and one of the physicians. (Daryl). Apparently Elizabeth and Daryl were on a rowing crew together in college, and Elizabeth and Hillary shared a boyfriend (not at the same time!), as well as the fact that Elizabeth went to High School with Hillary's sister! Can we talk? And, Elizabeth is working in the same medical facility as the physicians. Ouf.
OK, let's go over the scene itself. When you gather enough people, the good folks at St. Petersburg cafe host you banquet style. That means that when you arrive, the table is set and laden with all the appetizers that are available on the menu. It is a site both appetizing and aesthetically appealing, and you have to experience it from both a visual and gustatory vantage points for pure appreciation. Then there is the drinking. I indoctrinated my victims into the elaborate ritual of shooting vodka like Leo Tolstoy himself. The drinking was moderate -- probably about 7 shots each. And while at the end of the evening (we closed the place at 1:00 AM -- remember, this is Boston, not New York). The women burst into a spontaneous quasi gypsy dance in the middle of the place, and Gene (the third physician) almost ended up dancing on the table. The mayhem was presided over by an excellent pianist with shoulder length curly hair and a bald pate.
The entire scene did loosen people up a bit. Gene and I attempted to delve into the recesses of our childhood memories and burst into Okudzhava duets (at which time the proprietors turned up the radio volume to spare the rest of the clientele). The aforementioned radio was spewing 80's tunes the, oh heaven help us, nostalgia of my age group. At some point Hillary and Daryl did a spontaneous hair-twirling duet to one of the tunes.
Gene, Paul (Hillary's boyfriend) and myself had a discussion on the merits and demerits of translating poetry from one language to another, while maintaining rhyme and meter. Examples were presented and analyzed. Erudition flowed like a broken sewer. The somewhat concerned face of one of the waiters (the son of the proprietress as it turned out to be) would occasionally appear at the edge of my peripheral vision to check on us, supplying the crowd with vodka, bread and pickles.
At the end, we walked out (no one staggered), heavy with food (both the contents of our stomachs, as well as the ample leftovers we took with us). Such is my recollection. I call upon the participants to add any details I may have missed. Happy drinking, everyone!
9:49:47 AM 
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