"What the hell is this place?" I whispered to myself. "Didn't communism die here seven years ago?"

"It's called Marrutku Maizites," a heavily accented voice cried out from behind me.

I turned around and saw a tall drunken man fully-reclined in front of an old wooden table. Not only was he tall, but he was built like a bodybuilder, and this along with his shaved head gave him a very menacing appearance. This appearance though was somewhat softened by the expensive suit and shoes he was wearing.

"It means "horseradish sandwiches" in Latvian."

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"You wanted to know what this place is; and I just told you. Hey, why don't you sit down and have a drink with me."

"Thank you," I smiled as I took a seat across from him. "You know, this is a pretty strange place."

"Yes, it certainly is. It's supposed to be a Soviet bar; but it's not really for communists though, it's really for tourists like you. ... Tell me, where are you from?"

"I'm from America. My name is Tom and I'm visiting the Baltics this week. And yourself?"

"I'm Latvian, and my name is Karlis. So, what are you drinking?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have whatever you're having."

Karlis then slammed his hand on the table in order to get the attention of the large middle-aged woman sitting behind the bar. The woman reluctantly got out of her chair and slowly walked towards our table. The nasty expression on her face looked as if it had been that way for years.

"Chto nada?" she growled.

"Day emu Balzams bolshoy," he replied. "Zaplachu!"

A few minutes later, she brought me a large glass containing a thick black liquid. After she placed the glass on the table, Karlis pulled out his wallet.

"That's okay," I said. "I can get it."

"Forget it," he waved. "You're my guest."

I took a small sip of the drink and found it quite rancid.

"This is pretty good," I lied. "What's it called?"

"Black Balzams. It's the national drink of Latvia."

"Really? Tell me, what is it made out of?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't drink it. So, you really like it?"

"Yes, it's very original."

"Well, I can't stand it."

"Then why are you drinking it?"

"After what's happened to me over the past two days, I have no choice but to drink Balzams."

"What happened? That is, if you don't mind talking about it."

"No, I don't mind at all. You see, I work for this large American company. Perhaps you have heard of them: Johnstone Consumer. We sell feminine products. You know, tampons and such. I'm the Distribution Manager for Latvia.

Anyway, this week the Sales Director for Eastern Europe, an American, was visiting us. He wanted me to take him around our country (as you might know, our country is quite small) to visit our customers. We don't work with distributors, but instead we sell our products directly to the drug stores.

Well, I don't know how well you know our country, but yesterday we were traveling in the western part of Latvia, near a city called Rezekne. David (the Sales Director) wanted to visit some of the stores in the villages, so we got off the highway in the direction of Balvi. However, along the way, our tire went flat, and there was no spare.

I told David, `I didn't see any service station on this road. We will have to walk back to the highway.'

`That's crazy,' he said. `We must be twenty or thirty kilometers from the highway. There must be some kind of station in one of the nearby villages.'

`I'm very skeptical,' I replied. `I'm skeptical that there is even a nearby village.'

So, we started walking back to the highway. Before long, it was getting dark and David was getting tired. It was just then that we passed by a dirt path. And down the path, far in the distance, we could see a light.

`There must be a village down there,' he said. It's a good thirty-forty minute walk, but it must be closer than the highway.'

I didn't think it was a very good idea, but who am I to argue with the boss? So, we walked down the path. You know, we must have walked for at least an hour. Maybe longer.

Finally, we came to a small village, and at the beginning of the village there was a sign; and on the sign was written the name of the village. It read: Krepkogorodok. What was strange about the name is that this is a Russian word; and the sign was even written with Russian letters. In fact, all the signs in the town were in Russian! In Latvia, this cannot be; all town names and signs must be in the Latvian language.

So, I decided to stop the first person I saw, an old woman carrying a basket of vegetables, to find out what was going on.

`Labvakar!' I said to her. That's "good evening" in Latvian.

She looked at me as if I were crazy and moments later she started screaming in Russian for the police.

`Miliciya! Miliciya!'

A few moments later, a policeman came. And he was dressed the way policemen were dressed during Soviet times. He asked us for our documents, and I gave him my identification card and David's passport.

`You'll have to come with me,' he said after he briefly looked through our documents.

`Why?' I asked. `What did we do wrong? ... And how come you don't speak Latvian?'

He did not answer any of my questions; he just led us to the town's police station. David became very nervous as he didn't know what was happening.

`Where is he taking us?' he asked me.

`To the police station,' I replied. `But I have no idea why.'

Once we were at the station, we were taken to see the police chief.

`Good evening, comrade,' the police chief said to me as we walked into his office. `Please, have a seat.'

`Comrade?' I said as we sat down. `Why are you calling me comrade? And how come nobody here speaks Latvian?'

`What would you like me to call you, comrade,' he sincerely replied. `And why should we speak Latvian?'

`Why? Why? This is Latvia! That's why. This is Latvia, is it not? I know we could not have walked that far.'

`Of course this is Latvia. The Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic.'

`What? You must be crazy! Latvia has been an independent country now for five years. How could you not know this?'

`I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said, shrugging his shoulders the way all the old communists used to do when they were faced with a situation they did not want to accept.

`Are you trying to tell me that you did not know that the Soviet Union collapsed?'

`Well, a number of years back we heard some unpleasant things on the television and on the radio. And we read about even more unpleasant things in the newspaper. So, we stopped watching television and stopped reading the newspapers.'

`Are you saying that if you ignore reality you can change it?'

`Well, if a tree falls in the forest, and no one hears it, ...'

`You're insane! You're all insane!'

`We're insane? You and all the other corrupt, decadent criminals let the greatest nation this world has ever known collapse before your very own eyes. And we're insane?'

As you can probably understand, there was not much purpose in arguing with this idiot. So, I calmed down and asked him what he planned to do with us.

`You'll be executed in the morning,' he calmly replied.

`What?' I asked, unable not to smile. `You're joking, right?'

`Unfortunately, I'm not. Please don't take this as anything personal. I actually kind of like you. But you have to understand my position. We are a very small town, hidden in the countryside. No one knows about us. No one cares about us. We are free to live the way we want to live, true to the ideals of Vladimir llich. However, if we were to let you go free, there would certainly be trouble for us. And I can't allow that to happen. Of course, I could just lock you up, but I'm sure that you would make trouble. Besides, you would be miserable. You wouldn't want that, would you? No, the best thing for all concerned will be to execute you tomorrow morning.'

When David saw the expression on my face, he became even more nervous.

`What's going on, Karlis?'

`They're crazy,' I told him. `They think that the Soviet Union still exists.'

`What?'

`This motherfucker, the one sitting in front of us with a stupid grin on his face because he doesn't understand a word of English, thinks that communism is still alive. At least in this town.'

`That's unbelievable! What the hell does he want from us?'

`... He says that they're going to execute us tomorrow morning.'

`Execute?' David screamed as he jumped out of his seat. He then turned to the police chief. `Listen, you, I'm an American citizen, and I know my rights! I demand to speak with my embassy immediately!'

David's shouting must have made the chief nervous, because he called in one of the policemen, and the policeman put his gun to David's head.

`David, you better sit down,' I said as I grabbed his arm.

`I'm not going to fucking sit down!' he screamed at me. `This is outrageous!'

`If you don't sit down, David, the man behind you is going to blow your fucking brains out right now. He's not bluffing.'

David reluctantly sat down, put his hands on his head, and started to whimper.

`This can't be happening, Karlis. It must be some kind of nightmare.'

I didn't know what to say to him; I just grabbed his shoulder and tried to calm him down. In truth, I was probably more scared than he was.

They then took us to a small cell in the back of the building. David sat on the floor in the corner of the cell and cried like a little baby. You know, when I met him, I really thought that he was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. In fact, all of you Americans are arrogant sons-of-a-bitches. But let me tell you, he wasn't arrogant anymore.

Soon after, they served us dinner, and he calmed down a bit.

`You'd think that they'd give us something good to eat for our final meal,' he joked when he took a sip of the soup.

`For Russian food,' I replied, `this is good.'

Once we finished, we stared at each other for a few minutes. I don't think either of us could believe our fate. He then took a photograph from out of his wallet and looked at it for a moment before he handed it to me.

`Is this your family?' I asked as I looked at the picture of his wife and daughter. I really started feeling sorry for David. You know, I'm single. If I die, it means nothing; it will affect no one. But his death would affect two innocent people; two people for whatever reason obviously loved this son-of-a-bitch.

I handed him back the photograph, but he refused.

`Keep it,' he said. `I have a whole wallet full of them. Besides, what good is it going to do me?'

In the morning, both David and I woke up at dawn. That is, if we ever really slept at all. Before long, we heard footsteps and knew exactly who they belonged to.

`The American is first,' the policeman said as he unlocked the cell.

`Why?' I replied. `We can't be shot together?'

`The American is first!,' he shouted back.

I turned to David and told him that he was to go first. I was surprised that he didn't cry or shout; he even grinned a little as he walked over to me to shake my hand goodbye.

`Next year in Jerusalem,' he said.

I had no idea what he meant, but I answered back, `Yes, next year in Jerusalem.'

He was then led out of the building, and I listened carefully as the footsteps became weaker and weaker. For a little while I didn't hear anything at all, and then I started hearing footsteps again; this time coming from the courtyard. You know, I could have watched the execution from the window, but I didn't look out. In fact, I tried not to even listen, but I couldn't help but hear when the round of bullets were fired moments later.

Soon I heard the footsteps approaching the cell again. This time they were for me.

`It's your turn, comrade,' the policeman said.

`Fuck you,' I replied. `I'm not your comrade.'

He just smiled at me and led me out of the cell.

This is the interesting part, because as I walked down the hallway, I really did see my whole life before me. Just like it's described in all those cheap novels.

Well, let me tell you, fate and luck are amazing things. You never know what is going to happen. You would never think that a simple sneeze would save my life. Well, it did. Just a little ordinary sneeze. The kind millions of people have every moment of the day. You see, as we were approaching the end of the hallway, the policeman sneezed. And I didn't hesitate for a moment pushing him against the wall. I then took his head and pounded it against the wall. And I kept on pounding it even after he was unconscious.

I then started running. I didn't know where; and I didn't care. I just ran. I ran like a madman.

As I approached the forest, I heard someone scream, `Stoy!' But I didn't stop, not even after I heard bullets flying at me.

I don't know how long I ran after that. It could have been only a few minutes; but it could have been a few hours. Finally though, I found the highway and stopped a truck driver. He agreed to drive me to Riga, and I did not say another word to him until we reached the edge of the city. Afterwards, I immediately came here."

"That's a pretty incredible story," I smiled, not believing one word he had said to me.

"You don't believe me, do you? ... Well, fuck you. Fuck you, all. Hey, where is that fat-pig waitress of ours? ... Povtorit! Povtorit!"

The woman was in no hurry, and by the time she finally came over to our table with the bottle of Balzams in her hand, Karlis had passed out and his body was sprawled across the table.

"Pyanica!" the woman snarled as she spit on Karlis. "He is drunk," she said to me in broken English. "Don't listen one word he say. He lies people all day. He no good."

She then briefly looked at the bottle in her hand before she looked back at me. "You want more?" she asked, waving the bottle at me.

"No thanks," I smiled.

She shrugged her shoulders and then took a large swig from the bottle before walking back to the bar.

A few moments later, I got up from the table and got ready to leave. When I looked down at Karlis though, I felt that I had to do something; at least sit him back in his chair. So, I gently grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. As I did this though, I noticed a small tear in his loose-fitting jacket, just bellow his arm pit. It looked like a bullet hole.

"It couldn't be," I whispered to myself.

I then nonchalantly put my hands in his pockets and pulled out a small photograph. It was a picture of a man, a woman, and a small girl, and it was obviously taken at Disneyworld.

"Excuse me, miss," I motioned to the waitress. "On second thought, maybe I will have another Balzams."