True story. You are a Frenchman riding on the Trans-Siberian railway and you find some Russians who befriend you and ply you with drinks. The drunker you get, the more you like these guys. They are great pals. Then your pals tell you that there is no more vodka. At the next whistle stop they push you, thoroughly soused, off the train to buy more. You are dressed in pants and T-shirt and you don't know where you are. You look at the departing train as you shiver. It is thirteen degrees below zero (-25C). Far away, now, speeding down the track, your pals have taken the money from your wallet and flushed the billfold down the toilet. You speak no Russian and are in the middle of nowhere. What are you going to do?
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