Russian madness part one

We were about one pubic hair away from canceling the Russian leg of the tour this morning.
The Russian booker, who we are coming to find out is not the most experienced with booking bands from the United States, somehow managed to convince this girl that works at the Brussels Russian embassy to get up at 6am today to drive from Koeln Germany all the way to Brussels on her DAY OFF to open up the Embassy with 2 of her very unhappy co-workers who were also supposed to have the day off, so they could process 2 visas for a couple of idiots in a rock band (us) because this is something we apparently couldn’t take care of while we were still in the US. So after entering the Russian embassy that we watched several dejected people not get into while we were waiting in the car, the very stressed out friend of the Russian booker is running back and fourth from behind the glass that separates the office with the unhappy co-workers from us who are trying our best to fill out a lengthy questionnaire regarding our plans for their country, to the back office. Meanwhile we are informed that our “express processing” or whatever, of the visas is going to cost us 250 euro each. This prompts a phone call from our tour manager Martin on the stressed out friends cell phone to the Russian booker who is in Croatia at the moment who also mentions that our return flight isn’t booked yet, for some reason, besides the fact that he never mentioned the visa fee. The embassy girl starts stressing to Martin that he needs to get off this very expensive phone call before he can get the information that he needs seen as the Russian booker would not respond to Martins emails and that we need to make a decision RIGHT NOW about what we are going to do because she drove all the way from Koeln and her co-workers are pissed and meanwhile I’m trying to fill out information about a bartending job I had two summers ago and whether or not I had extensive experience with explosives or firearms (I haven’t) and I dropped my pen cap on the ground and I’m dizzy and I need water and a good poop. I’ve got a xanax in the car with my name on it (a real bad new security blanket I’m going to need to leave behind at the airport) but we need to tell them right now what we are going to do. I can’t remember what we decided but I’m pretty sure there is a new visa in my passport. Let the blood draining begin.