(A Slightly Distorted Account)

It all started one night in late spring. Okay, so there we were at our favorite hangout, when all of a sudden someone (I don't remember who) suggested that we go to Russia, instead of dinner and dancing, like we'd planned. Great idea, we all said. A few phone calls, visas were obtained, la la la, and we were off to pack. Certain goods, ya see, ya still can't get over there. . . And we were off to the airport.

We meet up with pally James Dean, who came along just for kicks. I don't remember the exact number of us on the trip; pallies came and went, in all directions. Never a dull moment. So, on to the airport, and a long jet ride across the Atlantic. On the plane, let me tell ya, it was the swingin'est, highest cocktail party ever. The stories I could tell ya. . .

A brief stop in Helsinki, Finland. A nice city, very nice, lots of churches. Outdoor market where you can buy wool and fur hats cheap. We didn't. Here Ringleader Frank poses with a monument to the patron saint of Helsinki. We asked, "Why Helsinki?" But honestly, how often have ya been there? Us neither.

Arrival in Moscow. It rains frequently in Moscow, but the storms don't last long. Ringleader Frank gives us a brief safety lecture in the hotel, before turning us loose to explore the city, to live Moscow to the very fullest. Moscow is a very tourist-oriented city, very clean, but the streets are narrow and confusing. We managed to hit the major spots in the Moscow area, including some most tourists never hear about.