#metro29, or A Monday morning.
This morning started at a usual Monday morning. Laziness, yawns, frowns caused by total absence of wishes to start studying again after Easter holidays. This very morning all Muscovites started their day as usual: woke up, uttered some swearwords directed to the ones who had created the whole concept of a Monday morning, and found themselves, as usual, somewhere between the first morning cup of coffee and sleeping with their faces on the keyboards at work – at Moscow metro.
Everything was exactly like yesterday. Like the day before. And before. Like tomorrow…uh, no, I’ll pass to it later.
A classmate of mine entered the classroom, as usual being 30 minutes late, and announced that there was an explosion in the underground, at “Lubyanka”. We’ve started to spasmodically check out the news sources and reach our friends and families. The first thought was terrible: a panic-creating realization of the quantity of people at metro on a working day at 8am.
Then there was another blast, at “Park Cultury”. Then the mass-media told about the third and the fourth ones, but they weren’t confirmed, even though there are tons of witnesses of one of them.
On a certain moment I’ve understood that a friend of mine could have been on one of them exactly at that time. I’ve tried to call him, but mobile services just died on our hands. (Right at that time he wrote on Twitter that he really WAS there, but everything was ok.)
It was scary. It was scary, even though personally I was quite far from both places and all of my friends and family were ok. It was scary not being sure if we know all or the truth is hidden. Not being sure in personal safety anymore. How can I be sure if innocent people die on public transport? For what? What’s the reason?
And one of the facts that makes me grin, if it’s even suitable now, is that the first blast happened at Lubyanka, right under the building of the Federal Security Service. (Yeah, the so-called “scariest building of the USSR”, former KGB headquarters). The second one had to happen, according to the news sources, at Oktyaborskoya, where another FSS building is situated. Nice, eh? Blasts happen under the nose of our security service.
And another thing that made me want to crawl back under my rock where there’s comfortable in ignorance is that the taxi drivers raised the prices, like, from usual 10 USD to at least 100. (People remembered quickly that on 9/11 the taxi drivers worked free of charge.) Making money with people’s tragedies? I refuse to live in the world with such people.
My country is a fun country: you never know what you’ll wake up to tomorrow.