It's Fun to Be Ukrainian?

Being rational/Slavic, I often feel that my post-college life was going A+ swimmingly up until a very specific moment in time.

That's right: on November 4th, 2012, I accidentally and yet irrevocably ruptured the space time continuum.

My crime against fate?  I found and purchased a pin that propagated one of the cruelest and most heinous lies I have ever seen in print.

It reads:

I remember the moment of discovering this pin distinctly: I was perusing a now-defunct outdoor flea market at a public school in Park Slope. I picked the button up from a large bin of similar 1970s-era buttons.

I guffawed, audibly - to the annoyance of the crazy old lady shelling the buttons to the public - but I also paid actual currency for the thing: Two whole dollars! When I actually should have thrown that thing in the dust!

Because, listen friends - if there is one truth in this world, it is that it is definitely not fun being Ukrainian, nor has it ever been fun being Ukrainian, nor will it ever be fun being Ukrainian.

....Wait, how does one even say fun in Ukrainian? 

OH YES THERE IS NO WORD FOR THE CONCEPT OF NON-ENTERTAINMENT-OR-SPORTING-SPECIFIC MERRIMENT. (Note: there are also no equivalent Ukrainian words for the American-English concepts of: "exciting," "hope," or "cute." And yet there are at least 11 different ways to cover the concept of being sad, however.)

For the skeptics out there who perhaps find it very fun being very Ukrainian, I present the series of Ukrainian-related tragedies that emerged within mere hours of my horrific rupture of basic human truth. This is my testimony; this is my evidence.

More after the jump!






1) Within an hour of procuring this pin of lies and deceit - I was catapulted off an escalator at Atlantic Center by a crew of linebacker-sized thieves who had just looted the Marshalls.

I fell 10 steps to the bottom, breaking my finger, fracturing my wrist, and sustaining large gashes to both my legs.

How fun is it being Ukrainian, again?

 FUN.

---

2) In the ambulance, I called my dad. Our exchange:

Me: "Dad, (sob sob wail wail) I just got thrown off an escalator by two thieves that were running away from the security guards at Marshalls; I fell 10 steps to the bottom. (sob sob wail wail) I think I broke something in my hand, it really hurts (sob sob wail wail)."

Andy: (Nonplussed) MMhmm. (Jaded thanks to the many iterations of Ukrainian-health fun timez he has witnessed, Andy has a thick skin for medical tragedy)

Me: "Okay.... (sob sob wail wail) So, I'm heading to the (sniff) hospital now in an ambulance and--"

Dad: (PISSED) "WAIT. WAIT. YOU'RE IN AN... AAAMBULANCE?"

Me: "Yeah, an off-duty EMS worker called it and they wheeled me in, I--"

Dad: "DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE AMBULANCES ARE? BASE PRICE IS A THOUSAND DOLLARS. HELL THE INSURANCE IS GONNA BE CRAZY"

The lesson: Ukrainian parents never lose sight of the price tag.

Hashtag: it is ever so much fun being Ukrainian.

----

3) Later, as I sat in the ER for the first time in my young adult life, I sniffled to myself, feeling intense self pity and deeply deeply hoping I would not miss all of Real Housewives of Atlanta. (Lest you, dear reader, judge me: watching RHOA is fun; being Ukrainian is not.)

To my left, a very crazy, very old lady was crying/babbling to herself and generally trying to elicit sympathy from others in the worst and most dramatic way possible.

Around 15 mins into my 3.5 hour wait:  the lady grabbed my arm, looked me directly in the eye, and whispered in Ukraino-Russian (read: surzhyk), "You - do you understand me? You Ukrainian?"

To this day I wonder to myself how the heck she could have known my ethnic identity. Eyebrows? General air of gloom and self-pity? Neutral-face that somehow expressed the deepest lines of Ukrainian historical tragedy within it?

Orrrrrr perhaps it was deduced from how much fun I was having!!!

Upon revealing that I was the only person in the ER with the full linguistic capacity to understand her mixed Ukraino-Russian  - Crazy-Ukr.-lady #1 (CUL#1) proceeded to spit Ukr-Russian rants at me for the next 2 hours as I waited, hand throbbing and sense of fun never-ending.

It seemed that many people had wronged CUL#1 that day and indeed over her entire lifetime. I heard about them all: The good-for-nothing ungrateful children that never called! The cold BK air hurting her old tired lungs! The bodega owner that always charged too much for Campbells soup!

The descriptions involved a lot of screaming and she smelled very strongly of fermented cabbage.

And let me tell you: It was. a lot. of. fun.

----

4) Around 2.5 hours in, Crazy Ukrainian lady #2 arrived.  She immediately noted crazy CUL#1, since her explicit and belligerent crazy had very much so captivated the entire ER.

Thus, within minutes of her arrival to the ER, CUL#2 turned to me and (again! seriously! how did they know!) asked me in Ukraino-Polish: "You Ukrainian?" I nodded. She continued: "Good. Why is she (points to CUL#1) so crazy? Why is she screaming? What is her problem? It's not like HER daughter is SUFFERING FROM MISTREATMENT FROM THE MEDICAL INDUSTRY AND IS NOW FORCED TO WAIT IN THE ER." 

After a long description on why you should not accept less than full painkillers from one's medical doctor, CUL#2  offered me the services of her "very good lawyer man." She felt that we could joint-sue the medical industry for her losses and also the Atlantic Center for, you know, owning an escalator.

The two cases were clearly linked in her eyes. It was to be the greatest joint-Ukrainian case in the century!

Actual scene from a street in Ukraine where everyone was having fun; being tasered by anti-EU riot police.

She tried many times to make me call her very-good-lawyer on the spot, as evidently Ukrainian-fun-loving lawyers work late on Sunday evenings. I kept waving my bleeding clunker of a hand in the air and miming my inability to dial on a touchscreen. She nodded solemnly.

Litigation pending. Fun, never-ending.

----

As I walked out of the ER many hours later, I stared down at my "It's Fun to be Ukrainian" pin.... even then, I was not fully aware what had I done.

The rupture was complete, but the chaos had not even begun.

A year later - Here I am, ~surviving~ ~not really thriving~ ~smiling and jiving~.

I look forward to documenting this strange, alternatively fun-and/or-awful-but-nevertheless-always-Ukrainian early 20s life for my friends and followers and creepy lurkers from Malaysia (--You're great--) alike.

It may not be that fun being Ukrainian; but is is very very very surreal. And since Ukrainian has no concept for fun currently, I'll just count my fun as an endless slew of truly and endlessly absurd occurrences. Often featuring cabbage.

Happy 2014!