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A story that has become an anecdote, but a story.
The mid-90s, the arrivals area of Sheremetyevo Airport. French fries and all that. A "new Russian" drunk after a bar is carried by his comrades and a girlfriend. He wakes up for a moment and says: where are we?.
In Sheremetyevo.(//tractor-service.com)
Where are we flying to?
We are not flying, we have arrived.
And where did they fly to?
In Basel.
To Basel? Well, how is it in Basel?
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