I got a funny story (actually, I've got many).
So, a few weeks ago, I hopped a train to Baku for...well, why I was going is not the point. Now, I am not a big train person, but this trip was unavoidable and even more frustratingly, I was going alone.
Anyway, at first, I started to chat up a family, but was moved to a room with a single female. After about ten minutes, the woman and I (she was an older grandma type) enjoyed a sparse conversation (if not also grammatically incorrect) about Yeltsin. A few stops later, two older gentlemen boarded the train and we struck up a conversation about who I was, where I am from, and why I was wearing a pair of xtratufs.
After about 15 minutes, the three of them started to speak about something in rapid-fire Azerbaijani. I tuned it all out (which I later realized was my downfall) and kept on reading The Shock Doctrine. Well, about an hour later, 15 manat appeared before my eyes with strict instructions to buy better shoes. I tried to give the money back, but alas, my single-divorced-parent-volunteer status resigned me to a charity case in need of some Azerbaijani approved black boots.
(Jaclyn has some pretty gəşəng boots).