Thursday, October 6, 2011

So this one time at the Library of Congress...

You know when your boyfriend sends you a random invitation to a Russian cultural event in a few weeks and asks if you want to go, and you're thinking "mmm, I'm not really super interested in Russian culture but there will be food and an open bar and I really don't have a reason to say no" so you end up saying yes, thinking you can always a) cancel if you have to, b) invite your cool friend who is into Russian culture and c) bounce after the free food but before they make you watch what is sure to be the weirdest movie ever made. We've all been there, right?

 That's what I thought.

 The boat in which I found myself last Friday was... peculiar. Let's just say I didn't know such boats still existed, but I may have imagined them when I was a child playing tea with my American Girl dolls (Samantha and Josephine, in case you were wondering). First of all, I didn't actually read the invitation very carefully. I understood there would be free food and booze, but I neglected to note the location (Library of Congress). And yes, we did have to RSVP, but I didn't think much of that, nor did I worry about sneaking in another friend, Not Emma Templeton, with someone else's name. Because, let's be honest, it never really occurred to me that there would be name tags. And O My Beloveds, were there name tags. Not only name tags, but women in cocktail dresses, dozens of servers, and tables and tables of Russian delicacies served on silver platters with heavy silver serving spoons (Russian pickles, been stroganoff, mushroom vol au vents, cheeeeese, snap pea salad, green bean salad, little pasta bags filled with chicken and artichoke, I could go on but I won't) - each table carrying a different set of dishes such that my attempt to try everything ended after table and plate two out of a whole room!

Perhaps it didn't help that I consumed about 4 glasses of free champagne - the good stuff - and was rushed down to a movie theater after only an hour. Normally when I think of a movie at a cultural event, I think of a projector, a screen flopping in the breeze and a bunch of folding chairs. That wasn't so much the case at this venue. We were ushered downstairs to a red carpeted theater lobby complete with men dressed as bell hops, inviting us down a hallway that was lined with candy-stocked tables. Giant boxes of jujubees, junior mints, rainsinettes and Russian chocolates, as well as boxes of popcorn (plain, caramel, chocolate-covered), were ours for the taking! We snagged bottles of water (also free!) and made our way down to the plush, red velvet theater seats.

I'm not going to say the movie wasn't weird. Because it was really, really weird. And there were a couple of seriously disturbing incidences of blackface (are we actually supposed to believe that this actress, this white, Russian actress, is a black, Cuban jazz singer?) however it was an entertaining movie. And it got significantly more entertaining when I realized the hero is the doppelganger of a guy I dated in Paris. After almost falling asleep from sugar shock and champagne consumption, we all woke up for the end and concluded the movie was pretty entertaining.

At this point, we were figuring just about everything that was going to happen had happened. But no, Russia had another ace up its sleeve. After too much talking and speech-giving, we were invited upstairs for dessert and "a special surprise". Now sometimes, a "special surprise" is actually lame, like another speech by yet another Russian culture enthusiast. Other times...


...it's a giant ice sculpture of the Kremlin.

Just take that in for a second. It was so large, it actually cooled down the room.

And then, of course, dessert. Which wasn't even a suprise, it was planned. And this is what it looked like:


In case you can't see it too well, I'll describe: it's a table full of silver platters of cookies, chocolates, cakes and Russian black tea (served with jam?). There were two of these tables, two long tables with ice cream stations (3 per table) and two coffee bars. Also, they opened the reading room for our enjoyment.

After that, Igor Brill (famed Russian jazz pianist) was on hand to play an exclusive concert for the attendees. I don't know him, but apparently he's famous.

I suppose if we're going to wind up this story with a moral it would be...always attend cultural events even if they seem weird. No, wait, how about: When in doubt, follow the open bar. Or actually: Just because it's a free Russian movie, it doesn't mean there won't be dessert after. Er, maybe this story isn't actually well suited to a moralizing.

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