SIBERIA BOUND
Chasing the American Dream on Russia's Wild Frontier |
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Single Page Format “Okay, but I’m going to show you how to do it right,” I said as I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand through a practice run. When we did it for real, our hands met with a loud, crisp CLAP that echoed down the hallway. That went well, I thought. Now all we had to do was turn this loan into a viable company, not just cheerleading practice.
We walked down the hallway towards a large window. The fluorescent light bulb overhead, flickering and buzzing sporadically, turned the window into a mirror, reflecting the image of a strange pair walking side by side. One man was short and dark-haired, the other over six foot and blond. The sleeves of the short man’s suit covered almost his whole hands. The large man’s suit barely reached his wrists. I couldn’t tell if we looked like bold entrepreneurs or off-duty clowns.
I was twenty-two years old, twenty thousand dollars in debt, and in the middle of Siberia. Despite the prerequisite anxieties of the newly self-employed, I couldn’t have felt happier at being right there, right then.
Anything was possible.