Issue #16/71, August 12 - 26, 1999  

This is in all likelihood my last column for the eXile. It is with mixed feelings--sadness, bitterness, frustration--that I have offered to resign as nightlife columnist, but in the end, it had to be done. I have been the unfortunate recipient of unbearable levels of harassment both from juvenile readers of this newspaper, from the equally sophomoric editors, and from certain nightclub owners. Worse than that, even my partner Amy has been harassed by people questioning her relationship to me and criticizing what we, as partners, are trying to achieve. Ultimately, our relationship began to show strains. Amy in no uncertain terms ordered me to sleep on the couch, where I stayed for almost five sleepless nights. That was enough. I offer to you, the readers, my letter of resignation for your perusal:

Dear Messrs. Ames and Taibbi,
Because you do not have the wherewithal, fortitude and grace to accommodate a truly 'alternative' voice in your newspaper without resorting to childish and hurtful smear tactics, I am left with no choice but to tender my resignation effective after the publication of this issue [issue #71]. It is with sadness and regret that I am withdrawing from your widely popular, though in my opinion regressive, newspaper. I await your formal acceptance of my resignation. It has been a difficult six months, but a valuable learning experience. I tried, but alas, I have failed.

Sincerely Yours,
Stuart Pratt

Thus far, I have not heard any response from the editors regarding my resignation. Nonetheless, I am moving forward with my newfound career in "serious" journalism--for an example of this, you can see my article in this issue concerning the new customs law. This is a scoop that I'm most proud of, and I believe it will send the proper message to editors and bureau chiefs around Moscow as to what I'm really all about.

Now, let's get Night-trekking!

Since very little new happens nightlife-wise in Moscow this month, my partner Amy and I decided to check out some newer low-key places. The first is called Murena Bar. Murena in Russian means "moray"; interestingly enough, this is the same word for "moray eel" in Spanish. And, wouldn't you know it, Murena Bar features a massive saltwater tank behind the bar in which five various moray eels cohabitate with a variety of lush, prismatic fish. Among the eels on display are a zebra-striped eel, a spotted eel, and a poisonous eel. The Cuban bartender, whose name I think was Juan or Pedro, told Amy and me that the last eel is so poisonous that when they feed the eels, the feeders have to use special gloves in case the eel leaps out and bites him. Amy expressed her concern about worker safety, and told him about the strict laws regarding this in Canada. I, for my turn, explained that it was nice to be speaking to a Cuban, since, unlike Americans, we Canadians can go to Cuba any time we want to.

Murena is located down the street from McDonald's on Ulitsa Gazeta, in the same spot where Armadillo-copy Abacus used to be located. Little has changed, except for the eel tank and no billiards table. Beers were reasonable (50R for a 1/2 liter of Baltika, Gin and Tonic was 100R). They also serve Russian, Georgian and Mexican cuisine, although our Cuban friend recommended the sea food, and he should know!

Next on our list was Studia Solar, a strange 24-hour bar on the side of the Stalin skyscraper on Kotelnicheskaya Naberezhnaya. I say strange because there you can order a beer for 28 rubles, or a twenty minute solarium tan for not much more. Or you can play pool with one of the hilariously untalented locals, who made even me look good, although Amy accused me of acting macho in front of her. In general, she was unimpressed by the place, although even she admitted that the cheap beer prices were a plus.

Well readers, it's been an incredible experience, and I thank all of you for sticking by me through thick and thin during my experiment in introducing progressive ideas to this nightlife column. Now that I'm heading out into my own as a free-lance journalist, I hope to see you again in some other, more respectable venue. And remember, keep the hope alive.

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