These Cossacks were waiting for the orders to charge in, and seemed rather deflated that they didn’t get to do anything dramatic. Mostly, the guy in charge rode back and forth in front of them, keeping them focused on anything but the tasty aromas wafting from the pizza joint behind me… I swear, once I learn how to order a pepperoni slice from Sbarro’s in Russian, I will never frickin’ starve in this country. There is a Sbarro’s on every other block in Moscow.
Someone in Yeltsin’s cabinet apparently loved Sbarro’s back in the day, and gave them early access to all the best bits of retail space…