although i was stranded out there in the rain for the bulk of yesterday, i cannot complain about brighton beach. did the heavens start pouring rain within five minutes of us disembarking the train? yes. did we spend a mere 45 minutes actually laying on the sand before we were forced to follow the russian crowds onto the boardwalk in escape from the approaching electrical storm? yes. but am i complaining? not at all. why? because brighton beach wins.
it wins because where else, other than 80s t.v. shows, do you see women flaunting the thong-ikini? it wins because where else can you find a real-life borat, only fatter, to halt you from his mini-van yelling, "whoa whoa whoa! sexxxy woooomen. ALRIGHT!" and lastly, it wins because you can get soaked and stranded on the main avenue wearing a backless bathing suit and shorts, still be welcomed into a fine dining establishment and be seated among long family-style tables with locals dressed in their sunday best, receive the most child-like treatment befit only for an imbecile by your waiter named boba, and come out unscathed and alive.
the primorski restaurant in brighton beach, everyone. eat like a winner.
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