IT HAPPENED
“FISHING” AT THE AIRPORT
Anton CHUYKIN
It happened on an autumn evening at the Sheremetyevo-2 airport, where I arrived at my "nine" to meet a colleague. I found a place, parked, got out of the car and … dropped the keys. It's okay, but they say the sign is bad. I wonder how to regard it, if under your feet there is not smooth asphalt, but a sewer grate? It’s dark, the keys, apparently, down there, the car is open - you can’t even call! It seems that only the husband of the Eater, the cannibal, who remained in front of the closed door in one soapy foam, got into a more stupid position. But his specialty did not help engineer Schukin, and in the absence of O. Bender, I had to rely only on her.
To begin with, the operation site was to be illuminated (the nearest lantern was far away and it was useless to search for keys, as in a well-known joke). "Carrying" in the car, as luck would have it, was not there, but a rather long wire was found, otherwise I was ready to cut the wiring to the speakers. Light bulbs in the car - as many as you like, only five in the rear light. The most convenient seemed to me a marker lamp in the headlight. Firstly, if you break it, it’s not so pathetic (you need dipped or main beam to drive), and secondly, it’s convenient to extract it. He took out the lamp, cut off the wire from the cartridge, filed a plus on its tail, a minus on its base and illuminated the scene of the incident. So it is - a lattice imbedded in asphalt, under it - a meter-deep gutter (fortunately, dry), and at the bottom - here it is, darling bunch of keys! How to get it?
