Bleeding Fiction

"Yeah, I hear the flu's being really nasty this year. I'll get a shot when I get back from my trip. I just don't have time before then. Besides, I'm not that likely to get sick travelling, right?" Sometimes, I should just keep my damn mouth shut.

I had a good time in Moscow. Saw an underground art exhibit illustrating the articles of the Russian constitution (where an old woman called us, no joke, a gang of ruffians), ate at a resturaunt called "soup" (which had numbered soup spoons as coat-check tags and gave out CDs of their music mix and is going in a novel of mine in the future for sure) and visited Red Square and St. Basil's Cathedral.

Oh, and I worked a little, too. With the help of Lena and Natela (who are great at doing interviews), I interviewed about 80 kids. About 70 applications made it home with me. I just hope they get visas this year. I interviewed one girl who, from certain angles, looked nothing at all like Ann. It made that half hour of time entirely uncomfortable. Until then, I'd done a relatively good job of not thinking about her on this trip.

The flu started my first night in St. Petersburg, when I just couldn't sleep. The room had bad feng shui is the only thing I can figure, 'cause it was a nice room. No more than four hours of sleep over two nights combined with the general wear of travel and lack of good hydration soon took its toll and by Thursday I felt a bit down. Fever set in Friday and Saturday morning I woke up achey.

Still, the work wouldn't wait and I made it through two days of interviews only with the help of Lena, who took a train over to help me on Saturday. I flirted with her a lot because, well, I like her, but at the end of the night I had to see her off on her train home. I was more obvious than I should've been, I think, since Vadim and Fyodor (our local reps) picked up on it, but I guess there's no harm done other than me feeling silly.

I woke up Sunday sicker than I'd been in years. Under the covers I was sweating rivers, above them my blood was ice. If Lena had stayed the night, if I sitll had Vadim's phone number, if I thought I might've been able to get a seat on a flight out the next day... I'd still be in my hotel. But I climbed out of bed, knowing with every movement that I was in no condition to travel. I puked a bit and wasn't able to keep down solid food until I was on the plane over the Atlantic. I was still achey, but at least I was close to home and Alex was sitting next to me (I met up with her in London for the flight back), so I knew she'd see me somewhere safe if my fever got the best of me.

No work for me today and I'm off to see the doctor in an hour or so. Hopefully it's just a traveller's flu and not Russian Death or something. I'm feeling a lot better already, though, so I'm not very worried.