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But den—BOOM—some drunk miner stumbles over, yellin’ she’s his. I’m mad, fists clenchin’, ready to TERMINATE his ass! “Da world for dem seems made of glass,” I growl, quotin’ da movie again—dis guy’s delusional! I shove him off, he trips, lands in mud—hilarious! She’s laughin’ too, says, “Yer a riot, Arnie!” Happy vibes, man, I’m king of da night!

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After that, I decide to grab some lunch. Hit up this little bistro on the corner of Pushkinska Street. The food there is bomb! I order borscht and some varenyky. Like, if you haven’t had varenyky in Mykolayiv, are you even living? I’m chowing down, and this old lady at the next table starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about the history of the city, how it was founded back in the day. I’m nodding along, but honestly, I’m just trying to focus on my food. Sorry, lady, but this borscht is life!

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