Gopniki

I learned a new word the other day: "gopnik." Basically, it's a type of belligerent Russian white trash. You can look it up here for more details. I've seen these guys everywhere, but I didn't know there was an actual word for them; I've just been calling them "muzhiki" ("peasants").

So, last week I was going to dinner with my buddy Max when we walked past a group of gopniki (plural; of course, guys like this always travel in packs) on a corner. I wasn't even conscious of noticing them, but now I realize that somewhere in the back of my mind I had taken note of them. Max and I walked past them on the corner and had to orient ourselves, so we looked around and realized we had to go back the other way, past this group of guys. As we started moving in their direction, they started moving in our direction. Again, I had no conscious thought that anything was out of the ordinary, but my sub-conscious Russian threat monitor did.

One of these hooligans decided he didn't much care for my face and resolved to put his cigarette out in it. I dodged out of the way and he only succeeded in melting a piece of my jacket on the shoulder, and, once again, I didn't process any of this. It all occurred at the sub-conscious Russian threat monitor/ evasive action station part of my brain. So, I walked a couple of steps before the rest of my brain caught up and I realized that someone just (drunkenly) tried to cause me some serious harm. I turned around to give him my best hard-man stare and maybe shout a little bit at him... and I saw a group of drunk Russian neanderthals much, much bigger and tougher than me (and much, much, much bigger and tougher than Max). Discretion being the better part of valor, I continued walking and Max hurried to catch up. It ruined Max's night, but, oddly enough, not mine. I happened to be in a particularly good mood about Russia and St. Petersburg that night, and these knuckle-draggers weren't going to spoil it. "Greater things are still to be done in this city."