Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
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“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