The last few days have been completely uneventful: just work, work, work.

At the hotel, I'm now being trained by another girl – Liz from Puerto Rico. She is much stricter and more demanding. She makes me redo a lot of things just to make sure they are done right. It's a bit hard to communicate with her; sometimes it feels like I'm a huge nuisance, even though I'm actually helping. After all, we do her rooms together, which makes it easier for her. But when I apologized for being slow, she said very kindly and cheerfully that it was fine, she just wants me to be able to handle it on my own later and know how everything works.

At the restaurant, I was so sleepy. I drank decaf – a type of coffee with double caffeine – my favorite. Especially if you dilute it with heavy cream. Honestly, there are so many different types of milk in America! While back home we only have milk, melted milk, and things like kefir, ryazhenka, or whey are different products entirely, here a nutritionist's soul would rejoice. Half&half, heavy cream, reduced fat milk, milk, chocolate milk, sweet milk, and so on. They are all sold in identical jugs, differing only by their labels.

There were few customers, and Andrew and Sarah (his wife) decided to have dinner at our place as guests. I didn't know about it, and when the waitress asked me to bring them bread, I was very surprised! I felt so nervous right away: going to serve the boss! Thank God they were drinking bottled water, which meant I wouldn't have to go to them often (usually I fill glasses with tap water and make sure they are always full). At the end of the evening, Carol (an elderly waitress who served Andrew's table) asked me if I wanted to eat. Naturally, I said no. Carol winked at me and left. Half an hour later, the sous-chef handed me some chicken – a real dish. He said it was from the chef. I was so surprised and embarrassed! Do I really seem that pathetic, hungry, and whatever else????? They fed only me, how awful! Although it was very tasty. Actually, all the waiters encouraged me, saying, 'Eat, don't get distracted, we can handle things just fine ourselves.' Another awkward situation: the sous-chef came up and asked how the chicken was:

• Wonderful, thank you!
• Ok, better than in Russia?
• Mmm.. I don’t think so..
• Ok...ok... The cook turned away and went back to the kitchen.

And that's when a burst of laughter erupted! Everyone who heard it started laughing, patting me on the shoulder, and joking. That cook was laughing along with everyone else, and I was even more embarrassed). Apparently, this is now the 'joke of the day.' I said thank you to Sarah and Andrew.

There is supposed to be a party tonight. Russian guys who stayed in the USA at some point and now live in Philadelphia are coming here for the weekend to hang out and are throwing a party. They provide the drinks, we provide the good vibes. The rumor has already spread all over Wildwood – it's going to be a mega-cool party where all the Russians will gather. I was looking forward to it, I even invited an American girl from work – Lauryn (she declined at the last minute:))). The plan was: after work, around 11, we go there together with Sonya, Anya (my roommates), and Lesha with Alena. Alenka got sick, so they stayed behind. Anya had been partying all night in Atlantic City, so in the end, it was just Sonya and me. Actually, I was the only one who got home at 11. Everyone working on the boardwalk is going to be late today because Friday is a busy day and sales are going well. I waited for Sonya until 1:00 AM, or even later! I was already sleepy, tired, and almost gave up! It's a good thing Sonya convinced me! Around 1:30 AM, we pulled up to 120 Glenwood Ave. A bunch of bikes, music – some guy told us the party was upstairs. So many people, and most importantly – everyone is speaking Russian! (There were a few Americans and other foreigners, but so few that they dissolved into the crowd).

We had just walked up, and someone was already introducing themselves, offering us a drink. That's the difference between an American and a Russian party! That's our mentality! If you are standing there empty-handed, you won't have any peace! They will pour you whatever you want, as much as you want, let you try one thing, another, etc. Just so you feel at home. We went inside – a real club. Disco lights, a 'DJ,' cozy sofas, and a big, big table with drinks! What wasn't there! Juices and soda don't count; the amount of alcohol and its variety amazed me (of course, I've seen more in Russia), but compared to an American bar (where everyone holds their own cup, and God forbid you take someone else's), this was really impressive!

Some were dancing, but most of the guys were standing in groups of 2-3, talking and sipping drinks. I talked to a Bulgarian, an Irishman, and an American – quite a company, and I understood the first two perfectly, and barely managed with the American! It's such a cool feeling, almost everyone is Russian, but if something comes up, they immediately switch to English without any hitches or pauses. For example, I'm standing with the guys, chatting in English, a Russian person walks by whom we were just talking to in Russian, and casually drops a few phrases, just like that. It's such a strange feeling! At first, I was shy to speak English in a company where there were party organizers (Russians, no longer students, who stayed here a long time ago). It felt like my language was so stupid, incorrect; they don't hear it the way native speakers do. But then we talked so much that all those doubts vanished very quickly.

By the way, I finally met Alesya – the girl who helped me get to the USA (find a job offer). In winter and spring, we messaged a lot on VK, but never found a chance to meet. And here, life had already taken its own course for everyone, work consumed us, and now, after my month and a half across the ocean, we finally crossed paths. The same happened with Ilya (we also messaged when I was still back home). These were the most unusual meetings! And one more for the same basket: in the morning at the hotel, I met a guy, I thought he was a guest. To his 'Hi,' I replied the same. I thought to myself that as a hotel employee, I should be the first to greet guests. And imagine my surprise when I saw his green sneakers and t-shirt at the party! In short, this is Vitya, he works in the laundry in the evenings. It's a small world! By the way, throughout the whole evening, I never met Natasha – the main organizer of the party, with whom I discussed all the details on VK and over the phone. Of course, I think I saw her many times – I just didn't recognize her.

What I want to note.

Nothing unites people more than the arrival of the cops! They came 3 times tonight!!!

The first time was the calmest; the music died down, everyone leaked into the house from the porch. Someone kept repeating 'Cups down, Cups down,' which means to put the drinks away. For some reason, everyone does this here when the police arrive – as if no one is drinking anything. And the fact that there are non-empty cups on all horizontal surfaces doesn't bother anyone. All minors are told to go to the back porch. Which is what I did, along with 12 other people. We sat, talked, I met a girl from Kazakhstan. It turns out there is a whole delegation of them here – 16 people. The Kazakh girls lived in Trish's house at the beginning of the season – it's widely known here for its terrible condition! Well, we live and feel great! At least we don't have bedbugs, and we have a private kitchen-bathroom-toilet. Why am I pointing this out: here on Glenwood Ave, there are two huge red houses next door – 'student dorms.' Many J-1 students stay there. For the first week, you have to pay $325, the next 10 weeks $100 each, and then it's free. Not bad, right? For those who arrive in early May and leave in September, it's a pretty good deal. So, there are bedbugs there – bed creatures that bite students at night. Not everyone suffers from this; I think it depends on the Rh factor of the blood. But in any case, it's unpleasant! And the kitchen there is shared, many refrigerators, only one stove. It closes at 11 PM until 7 AM. And no one cares that students come home from work later.

So we just sat on the porch, talked quietly, and after the command from the adults, everyone returned to their places. Only now the guys were mostly dancing inside.

I remember the second visit of the cops poorly; it wasn't much different. We went to the back porch again. Only more people had joined.

The third time was the most spectacular. The organizers, who were already quite drunk, were shouting, 'Cops, cops, all minors jump off the balcony, get out wherever you want!' As the owners of the house, they would get a hefty fine for the party, first of all, and secondly, for the underage people. Everyone headed to the balcony again, only the non-Russian speakers were confused; our 'cops' didn't mean anything to them. This time, literally everyone gathered on a tiny porch (considering that the number of guests had increased). Everyone tried to make their neighbors be quiet, but there was still a decent hum. Apparently, the amount of alcohol was taking its toll. They turned off all the lights and tried to keep quiet. The number of people was just staggering. Several adults stayed on the front porch, saying, 'We are quiet and calm, we are just sitting and drinking tea.' Over the phone, they informed us that the cops were walking around with flashlights. They don't have a warrant to enter, so they are only outside. At the command 'sit down everybody, sit down!!!!' (shouted in a whisper), we all sat down on the floor together. And everyone shifted to the center of the balcony. It was so great! I wasn't worried at all, and why should I be: it's warm, it's night, a blue sky, good company – just like in a camp around a campfire. In the middle, a guy with a guitar, although he's only strumming the strings for now – no noise. Flashlights were pointed at us, they were shouting something, but we were sitting as if nothing was happening. We don't know anything, we don't hear anything. Two guys were sitting on the edge, they had to stand up. One didn't say anything at all, stood leaning on the railing – like, I'm not at the age to hide. Good policy: I'm an adult, I'm relaxing on my porch. What's the problem? The other said he only understands Russian. After the phrase 'Can you speak Russian?' addressed to the officer, we weren't sitting anymore, we were almost lying on the floor from silent laughter. About 15 minutes passed like that, the police knew something was wrong, but what? And after this adventure, the hosts asked everyone to leave. They had enough excitement for today, especially regarding the minors.

P.S. Unfortunately, there are no photos from the party, but believe me, it was cool! Much better than the Americans' parties!