Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

“Outside of Mexican restaurants I’ve never seen a woman who liked those,” the store cop said.

“To the best of my knowledge liquor bottles don’t state gender restrictions.” I looked at him scornfully. Moron. That had an effect.

“Drink whatever you want. Just usually women drink sparkling wine or cider.”

“I’m not any just usually woman.” I appended a small smile to my retort.

The man asked if I had ever visited Mexico. I confessed never to have made it farther south than New Mexico, though I had spent several years in New York. I told him the same false story as usual, that I was in the restaurant field and had worked as a guard for the organic gourmet oasis Chez Monique, among other places. The man introduced himself as Petri and explained he was in the security business and could say no more about his work. I told him my name was Kanerva, which is actually my middle name. Petri thought the name lovely. The women on the hunt left. The dyed-blond boob bomb threw me a knife-sharp look and deliberately bumped my back with her bag. She didn’t even bother with what serves as the typical Finnish apology, O-ho! We both knew what was in question and I didn’t have the energy to teach the


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