I hoped the Russians sitting around us didn’t mind hearing the same four books read over and over, but it did keep Jesse quiet.July 28, 1987, Moscow..., Russian Soviet Federated Socialist RepublicMercifully, the time seemed to pass quickly on the flight to Moscow, as the stewards and stewardesses seemed more intent on annoying the passengers than serving them. It fitted every negative stereotype that I had for Soviets, though one of the stewardesses, a young, thin, average looking girl with. The first hour was taken up almost exclusively with questions about what was or wasn't an appropriate topic. Flying saucers were in ... but little green men were out. More importantly, I got the impression the moderator wanted to steer the discussion in a philosophical direction. How does man deal with the unknown? What are the ramifications of time travel? That one got my attention. Are we alone in the universe? Is there a parallel universe? The more he led the discussion, the more interested. And you are?”“I’m Hans von Staubig. I’m an audio engineer from near London. I’m here for a relaxed holiday – I sincerely hope that my amorous requirements will be catered for.”“I’m Daffyd Williams. As you can tell from my accent, I’m Welsh and I work in Swansea. Looking forward to a week of sex. Call me David, it’s easier. Divorced IT director here for nubile wenches with a wet fanny”“Steve Young. I’m an IT engineer from Bedford. Trying to get over my divorce.”“Muhammed Khan, Live in. Dean, I- But before Sam could finish his sentence Jo and Dean pushed him out of the way, paused for a moment in the middle of the living room, then hung a left for the bedroom. Dean, Sam followed them, confusion clear on his face. Hey, I already finished packing, your stuffs over by the door. Yeah, thats, thats great buddy, thanks, Dean said, sliding through the bedroom door and closing it almost in Sams face. Hey, Dean stuck his head out again, If Ellen shows up, stall her. Jo watched Sam run.