Cabana Boy and The Muse do NYC: Part 3 (the punking of Carl)

Originally published on MySpace on November 8, 2008.

Punking Carl…

The scenario: Anna from St. Petersburg shares a cab with CB from the airport and then he can’t get rid of her.

We arrived at the hotel in the late afternoon, and CB called Carl to tell him he’d meet him in the lobby of the hotel at 5:30pm. When 5:30 rolled around I put on my best Russian accent (not that great but certainly passable), and headed down to the lobby with CB.

I let CB walk ahead and greet Carl, while I stayed back a bit behind a potted plant. I “Anna” then casually walked up to the pair with a sly smile and waited to be introduced.

“Oh, Carl this is Anna,” said CB with a complete poker face. I said hello to Carl and listened to the boys chit chat about where to go and what to do, until CB turned to me and asked, “What would you like to do Anna?”

“I need drink!” I replied in a thick accent. “In cab you promised buy me drink.”

“Well, there’s a couple of pubs down the street,” said Carl. “I went to one the other night that was pretty good.”

“Beer?” said CB. “Anna probably wants vodka.”

“Yes, I’m flying all day and need drink vodka,” Anna said.

Carl looked a bit confused by this point, seeing that he had no idea who Anna was or where she came from, and CB wasn’t giving any details. The three of us decided the pub would be fine and headed out of the hotel to find it.

When we got to the first street corner Carl said, “My cousin married a Russian girl. From Moscow I think”

Anna turned to CB, hit him in the shoulder and said, “See! I told you Russian girl very nice. You should marry Russian girl!”

“Where you from again Anna?” asked CB oh so innocently.

“I told you in cab. You remember nothing!” Anna said getting a little irritated.

“Oh that’s right, Leningrad,” said CB.

“No! Not called Leningrad long time. St. Petersburg now,” said Anna with authority.

And on we walked.

When we got close to the pub CB asked Anna what she normally ate in Russia, and what she’d like for dinner. “Borscht? You eat Borscht?”

“Cabbage, potatoes, borscht. I had enough Borscht for lifetime. No more borscht!”

As we approached the front door of the restaurant CB pulled Carl aside, gave him a God-help-me look and said, “I shared a cab with her from the airport and now I can’t get rid of her!”

An angsty Irish waitress greeted us as we entered the pub and showed us to a table in the corner in the back of the pub, which was a good thing because Anna was about to get “drunk” and start getting more forward.

We sat down and looked at the menu, and Anna started asking questions. “What’s dis, chicken fingers? It’s real fingers?” Carl and CB explained that they were not real chicken fingers at all, and that chicken didn’t really have fingers. Anna continued to peruse the menu and ask totally naïve questions about the various food items until the waitress came back.

“What’ll ya be having,” she asked in a lilting Irish accent. CB and Carl each ordered a pint of something, and then CB asked if there was a full bar because Anna wanted vodka. He ordered a vodka tonic for Anna and the waitress rolled her eyes as she walked away.

Anna downs her first vodka tonic…

“I’m feeling tired. I can’t go sister’s house now too late. I stay with you?” Anna said as she put her hand on CB’s thigh.

“No Anna, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said CB.

Carl was getting visibly uncomfortable at this point and starting to sweat.

“You told me in cab you have two beds in room. Yes?” said Anna, pressing CB even more. “I just sleep okay? I sleep in other bed with clothes on. I not want sex with you. You thinking I want sex with you. I don’t.”

I could see Carl’s mind spinning, wanting to find a way to get his work colleague out of this horrible predicament with Anna. “We have a meeting at 9, remember?” he piped up, hoping this would help CB’s case.

“You told me in cab you have two beds. My sister live so far away. Can’t go tonight. I sleep in your room, okay? It’s good. I go home early morning.”

“Carl’s right, we have a meeting at 9. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Anna continued to touch CB’s leg, his arm, his face, and get more “drunk” and persistent. Carl had a look of desperation on his face at this point. CB was having a hard time keeping a straight face and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I “Anna” turned to CB and said, “Daahling. I think you tell Carl what’s going on now.”

“Carl, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend Kelly,” said CB. “She does a lot of improv, and she’s not really Russian.”

Carl just looked like he’d been hit with a two-by-four and looked at CB. “No shit!” he mumbled.

In the end we raised our glasses and toasted Carl for being such a good sport. I’m pretty sure he has yet to recover from being punked by CB and The Muse.

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