«Высшая мера» и другие рассказы на английском языке. Александр Пахотин

prepared everything for the arrival of my idol. I took my camera with a couple of extra films, and filled my backpack with some sandwiches, pop, and other stuff that could come in handy (like my umbrella, sunglasses, pictures of M.J., binoculars etc.).

      My plan was clear and simple: I was going to catch M.J. at the Kempinski Hotel and take a photo of him there.

      I got to the hotel at about 10 in the morning. There seemed to be no one there except the hotel porters who rushed to every limo coming to the main entrance.

      I hung around the hotel for some time, hoping to get more information about M.J. I was sure the porters knew something about the time of his arrival. So I approached one of them, talked with him, and he gave me some tips on how to take pictures of my hero.

      It turned out that M.J. was only coming to the hotel at about 7 p.m. so I had more than eight hours to wait. As I couldn’t trust the information, I decided to stick around. Strangely enough, I was not tired. Just the opposite, in fact: I felt better and better with every passing hour. Around 4 p.m. people began to gather near the hotel. The crowd was growing very quickly. I was upset ‘cos all the people were gonna kill my chances of taking good pictures. My hope and enthusiasm were vanishing as the crowd of fans grew.

      By 6:30 p.m. hundreds of people were crammed into the space in front of the hotel. I climbed up a tree to get a better view. My gut feeling told me that something was not right. I suddenly realized that M.J. would not even be able to reach the main entrance, not to mention getting inside. The thought gave me a real fright. Maybe the info about his staying at the Kempinski was bullshit. Maybe he was going to stay at some other place. Beads of sticky sweat streaked down my spine. I thought I was going to faint.

      At that very moment a wave of movement rushed through the crowd. Everybody looked in the direction of the left wing of the hotel. Two black luxury limousines were coming through the crowd. I got out my camera, ready to take pictures of my idol, but the cars did not go to the main entrance. Instead, they drove towards the side doors of the hotel and stopped within several feet of the entrance there.

      Two huge bodyguards got out of one of the limos and made a kind of passage for M.J. After a few seconds a third bodyguard opened the hotel doors. And then the famous face, with the sunglasses and the wide-brim hat stepped quickly out of the limo and walked to the open doors of the hotel. Thank God I was in the tree and able to see everything.

      I was so fascinated by the sight of Michael that I forgot about my camera. When I remembered why I had come, the doors of the hotel had already shut.

      For some reason, the crowd stayed. Now everybody was looking up at the windows on the third floor. Somehow, the crowd knew that Michael Jackson’s suite looked out onto the square in front of the hotel. Those who had been unlucky like me were now waiting for M.J. to look out the windows of his suite.

      I didn’t believe that Michael was going to show his face. But miracles do happen. After ten or fifteen minutes, Michael’s face appeared. Then he waved his hand and disappeared inside his suite. A few minutes later, a little kid looked out of the same window. Then Michael appeared again. This time he was holding a piece of paper in his hands. On the paper there were three words: ‘I LOVE YOU’. The crowd roared with excitement. Michael folded up the paper and threw it down into the crowd.

      I didn’t expect Hungarians to be so crazy about M.J. The crowd converged round the spot where the paper had landed. There were screams and shouts as people fought over the precious souvenir. This time I managed to take a few pictures of Michael looking out of the window. I still have those pictures in a special album.

      Looking back on those crazy days I feel kind of nostalgic. Since that time I have seen a lot of different stars, but I’ve never felt such awe and excitement as when I saw Michael.

      Словарик

      feel dizzy чувствовать головокружение

      pinrups плакаты

      catch one’s eye привлечь чьё-то внимание

      at all costs любой ценой

      cover здесь освещать в СМИ

      give up отказываться

      info информация

      pedesrian zone пешеходная зона

      backpack рюкзак

      pop газированная вода

      come in handy пригодиться

      limo лимузин

      hang around бродить

      stick around здесь не уходить

      ‘cos because

      were gonna kill здесь погубят (мой шанс)

      cram здесь заполнять до отказа

      gut feeling чутье

      gave me a real fright здесь поeнастоящему напугала

      bullshit груб чепуха

      faint терять сознание

      suite номер «люкс»

      roar реветь

      converge здесь сжиматься

      Вопросы и задания

      Have you ever taken pictures of a famous person?

      Did you behave in the same manner as the storyteller?

      Do you know anyone who can be called a fan?

      Do you support the storyteller’s wish to take pictures of M.J.?

      Do you think that such behavior is only characteristic of teenagers?

      Are you a fan of any famous person? Why?

      Read aloud and translate any paragraph you like.

      Look into his Eyes

      (a religious parable, 438 words)

      I heard this story while on a train. I was coming back home from my college. A middle-aged man sitting next to me was speaking with his companion. I don’t remember what they were talking about when suddenly they started to discuss some religious matters. It turned out that the man next to me was a priest. He was a man of about forty-five with a neatly trimmed beard and long hair. He had a nice low timbre and his voice kind of hypnotized me.

      He began telling his companion a very interesting story. I think it was some kind of religious story with an insight. It impressed me so much that I tried to put it down on paper.

      Here it is.

      Once upon a time there was a little mountain village in a country that was occupied by the enemy forces.

      One day the commander of the occupation troops came to the mayor of the village and said: ‘We know you are hiding a traitor. You should give him up to us or you will pay a dear price for it.’

      The village was, indeed, hiding a man who seemed good and innocent. Everyone in the village