Read Part One here: 6 characters I see every day on the Tallinn trolley

The Skunk

The Skunk smells like he slept in a septic tank but ironically waited to soil himself until just before he stepped on the trolley. I’ve seen entire trolley cars on the busy morning commute empty because of one skunk in the bank, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his stench is so offensive that people would rather be late to work than endure 20 minutes of smelling it.

The worst part about The Skunk is that there’s no way of appealing to him (or her). What do you say? “Please shower vigorously and burn the clothes you’re wearing before stepping on public transport again.” If the sight of people gagging and covering their noses can’t convince The Skunk that he needs to re-think his personal hygiene regimen, a few kind words won’t be effective, either.

The Socialite

There have been a few times on the trolley that I’ve spotted a young girl decked out in designer clothes from head to toe, texting furiously on a fake-jewel-encrusted iPhone, storing huge bug-eye sunglasses atop her bleached-blonde hair and asked myself, “Did Paris Hilton move to Tallinn?”

Obviously the answer is no – because Paris Hilton would never ride public transport. If the sign of a male rullnokk is to spend all of one’s money on a fancy car and live at home with one’s parents, then the sign of a female rullnokk is to spend all of one’s money on fancy clothes and ride the trolley between Mustamäe and Kesklinn every day. The Socialite appears to be the nucleus of a large social circle, constantly sending and receiving text messages that must certainly relate to tonight’s massive party. But if you could see The Socialite’s phone you’d realize that she’s simply chatting with SMS Laen, “earning” money for a new pair of shoes.

The Transporter

The Transporter has to move his stuff — and what better way to do so than to haul it onto public transport and get in everyone’s way? The Transporter clambers onto the trolley with multiple bags full of what look like knick-knacks from his living room: framed pictures taken in the 1950s, DVDs, clothes, cookware, and Matryoshka dolls. He hauls his bags of junk onto the trolley and lets out a massive sigh. He’s frustrated. He has to share the trolley with commuters.

The Transporter is not rude or inconsiderate; he simply doesn’t understand the meaning of the word public in the phrase public transportation. He interprets the word public to mean my, which is why he is visibly annoyed that so many people have decided to hitch a ride on his personal moving van today. I once had to share a trolley with a transporter moving a TV. He didn’t put it in the aisle, though – that would be impolite to the other passengers. He gave the TV its own seat.

The Whiney Foreigner

The Whiney Foreigner is impossible to miss: iPhone earbuds permanently in place, reading either some impressively urbane book on his Kindle or E Nagu Eesti, underdressed in the winter and the first to don shorts in the summer, and constantly scowling at his fellow passengers, from whom he interprets an offense every minute or so. The Whiney Foreigner rides the trolley in complete silence yet complains incessantly to his friends of the horror of public transportation in Estonia.

“The guy next to me on the trolley smells like a dumpster,” The Whiney Foreigner tweets on his way to work. When an old lady wearing a comically oversized coat sits next to him, squeezing his face against the window, he glares at her but backs down when she glares back even more menacingly. When The Whiney Foreigner finally gets off the trolley at his stop, he exhales conspicuously; a passive-aggressive way of telling everyone that he had been holding his breath for the entire trip to avoid the smell. No one notices.

I love this time of year: the air turns crisp and the sun retreats behind a layer of cloud cover that frequently treats Tallinn to short bursts of easy rain. But the best part about fall in Estonia is discovering which people regularly visit the solarium. Although not probable, it’s conceivable that someone in Estonia could have a tan during the summer. But sporting a tan in September is a farce; it’s a dead giveaway that a person goes tanning.

And while I’m no enemy of the artificial tan, some people are currently walking around Tallinn looking as if they locked themselves in a tanning bed and turned the dial to “crispy”. Here are six ways you can tell if you visit the tanning salon too often.

You’re frequently mistaken for a parking cone

If your skin has taken on the same shock-orange hue of a parking cone, you’re probably visiting the solarium too frequently. “But what’s wrong with being mistaken for a parking cone?,” you ask. “At least I won’t get hit by cars.”

Fair point. But people often use parking cones as improvised trash cans by putting garbage into the holes on the tops of them. Also, dogs pee on them.

Cheesy, bass-heavy porn music spontaneously begins playing whenever you’re around a member of the opposite sex

Picture this scenario: you discover that your refrigerator stopped working overnight, spoiling all of your cold cuts. You call a refrigerator repair man, who says he’ll come right over. But you’re dirty from playing softball with your sorority all morning: thinking you have at least 30 minutes, you jump into the shower. The doorbell rings, so you wrap a towel around yourself and open the door. Suddenly, porn music fills the air – it sounds like the opening credits of Seinfeld if the show had taken place in the 70s. You and the repairman lock eyes. “So,” he says. “I hear you’re having problems storing meat. I think I can be of assistance.”

Excessive tanning has turned your life into an adult entertainment movie. Congratulations, you’re a B-list porn star.

You’ve been invited to play an Oompa Loompa in a new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie

While the Oompa Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory are associated with positive sentiments – they have respectable work ethics, they make something that everyone enjoys, they spontaneously break out into song – I doubt many people would feel comfortable sitting next to one on the bus. Which is to say, tanning your skin to the point that you look like an orange candy slave will most likely have a negative effect on your social life.

The broader point here is that, once a person’s skin color has left the “human tones” palette, that person is no longer doing themselves any favors by visiting the tanning salon.

People throw their drinks on you in public, thinking you’re on fire

I’ve never seen someone self-immolate, so I have no idea what it would look like. Most people don’t. That’s why it’d be easy to excuse someone for screaming “FIRE!” and throwing their drink on another person if that person’s skin radiated light and heat. I’ve had a few close calls on the tram with high school girls whose skin tone could best be described as “Minute Maid”.

Hunters stalk you, hoping to turn your skin into a handbag

One ironic side effect of excessive tanning is that it makes human skin look like that of a reptile. Some people apparently find that look attractive from a sexual perspective – keep me away from their porn collections – and some people find it attractive from a fashion perspective.

Unfortunately, in order for a snakeskin or alligator skin handbag to be produced, a snake or alligator has to die. Which is why it’s not advisable to tan yourself into looking like a lizard-human hybrid: people will try to kill you and turn your skin into multiple handbags.

Little children approach you constantly, asking for free KoolAid

The KoolAid man is one of the most beloved product spokesmen of all time – but being mistaken for him wouldn’t be very flattering. For one, the KoolAid man is extremely round: to be confused for him, a person would have to be morbidly obese. Second, the KoolAid man’s skin is a dark red hue: not only would tanning your skin to match that color cause physical harm, it’d also be ruinously expensive at 4 or 5 euros per tanning session.

If little children approach you on the street and ask you for free KoolAid, you’re too tan. You’re also attracting the attention of the police’s anti-pedophile task force.

The Tallinn city council recently ordered the production of four promotional videos, at a price of more than €50,000, with the intention of introducing aspects of Tallinn to potential tourists that they may not have previously been aware of. The videos, titled “Design, arts, and crafts in Tallinn”, “Introducing Tallinn”, “A relaxing vacation in Tallinn”, and “Christmas in Tallinn”, will be produced in an effort to attract more tourists to the city.

But if the goal is simply to bring people here, why focus on things that are true? If the Tallinn city council wants to attract more tourists to the city, it needs to sell them a vision of a vacation that they won’t be able to experience anywhere else — even if that vision is a fantasy. So I’ve taken it upon myself to write the script for a fifth promotional video that will hopefully fill the void left by the snoozefests designed to get old grannies excited about visiting a wonderland of handicrafts and Christmas markets. I call it Tallinn ExtremeZone: Danger Level 7.

[Black screen. Foreboding music playing. Scrolling text, ala Star Wars]

In the year 1012, a powerful, evil wizard was apprehended by the peasants he had bedeviled for years and executed in a nondescript patch of woods near the sea. Before the peasants beheaded him, he cast a curse on the spot of land, damning it to a

millennium of chaos, turbulence, and maximum adventure. That spot of land was present-day Tallinn, and the curse expires next year. You’d better hurry if you want to visit…the most dangerous place on Earth.

[30-seconds of extreme guitar solo]

[Camera zoomed in on tower of Town Hall Square, pans down to narrator, standing in Raekoja plats]

Narrator: Welcome to Tallinn, the most dangerous place on Earth. Tallinn has been classified by the World Extreme Society, WES, as having a Danger Level of 7. This means it experiences a constant, imminent threat of wicked partying and getting wasted.

At any moment, I am in danger of spontaneously breaking out into party, getting into a firefight with members of the local resistance, being mortared and/or shelled, or hearing killer music. Please note: I am a trained professional and understand how to react in such situations. Amateurs may want practice on a less extreme city before visiting Tallinn — such as Mogadishu or Kabul.

[Video goes to black. 10-second guitar solo, slightly more extreme than introductory guitar solo]

[Camera zooms in on freedom monument, pans down to narrator, standing in Vabaduse Väljak]

Narrator: This is a town square where extreme behavior can be witnessed at any hour. One example is skateboarding, which you can see taking place behind me. Don’t let the apparent lack of skill or pre-pubescence of these skateboards fool you: they are extreme characters, and they shouldn’t be approached or taunted.

[Skateboarder falls behind narrator, begins to cry]

Narrator: We’d better get out of here. I think this is getting a little too extreme.

[Camera zooms in on Solaris Keskus sign, pans down to narrator, standing in front of entrance]

Narrator: I’m standing outside of the Solaris Keskus, considered the most extreme mall in the world. At any moment, the roof is liable to cave in. You [points to camera] have probably been shopping before, right? [Camera shakes up and down to simulate person nodding] Well, have you ever been…extreme shopping? [Narrator stares into camera while 10-second guitar solo plays] I didn’t think so. Follow me.

[Narrator walks through entrance and continues on, with back toward camera]

Narrator: Keep in mind that the roof might collapse at any moment. This is seriously dangerous, what we’re doing. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a more extreme situation in a retail center. We will be lucky to make it out of this alive. My heart is racing; I think I’m going to need to sit down after this. We’re almost to the exit…just a few more seconds…almost there…[narrator walks through exit] Phew! We made it! That was a close call. Let’s get out of here.

[Camera zooms in on Club Hollywood sign, pans down to narrator, standing near fountain]

Narrator: Welcome to Hell. We’re outside the most extreme nightclub this side of Bangkok, called Club Hollywood. This isn’t for the faint of heart, I can tell you that much. Now, even an experienced extreme tourist like me can’t walk straight in here without some sort of protection: word has it that some STDs have evolved and become

native to Club Hollywood. I’ll be putting this hazmat suit on to talk to some of the patrons here.

[Video cuts to interior of nightclub. Narrator is wearing a full hazmat suit.]

Narrator: [muffled] Now, the music here can supposedly cause dementia after less than 30 minutes of exposure, so we’ll have to be quick. Let me talk to this guy over here. Excuse me, sir. Sir? You have a Australian flag tattooed onto your arm. Are you Australian?

Man: [incomprehensible]

Narrator: What advice would you give to other extreme travelers who wish to visit Tallinn?

Man: [incomprehensible]

Narrator: How are you coping with the dangers of Tallinn?

Man: [projectile vomits onto narrator]

Narrator: Biohazard! Biological attack! Get me out of here! Oh God, it stings! It stings! Help me! Help! I can’t feel my legs! I can’t feel my leeeeeeeeee…

[Narrator flails wildly and knocks camera to ground. Camera catches footage of narrator being hosed down by members of the film crew with what look like fire extinguishers]

[Blank screen. 10-second guitar solo]

[Camera zooms in on foliage of a tree, pans down to narrator, standing in front of Bronze Solider statue]

Narrator: I’m standing here in front of a statue known colloquially as the Bronze Soldier. Think this is some boring, old war monument? Think again. When this statue was moved to this war ceremony in 2007, people literally rioted in the streets for two days. If that’s not extreme, I don’t know what is.

Most people think the London riots were senseless – and those took place because the police killed someone. The Bronze Soldier riot just sort of happened: a statue being moved was reason enough for people to smash storefronts and light stuff on fire.

[Camera zooms in on tower of Town Hall Square, pans down to narrator, standing in Raekoja plats]

Narrator: Thanks for taking this tour with me of the most dangerous place on Earth. Even standing right here — in what would look like a pleasant, European town square to the untrained eye – is practically a death-wish.

[A stag party, all dressed in military fatigues, begins singing drinking songs in the background]

Narrator: Heavily militarized, the troops here in Tallinn are all drunk and apparently extremely horny – a deadly combination that even most adrenaline junkies would shy away from. But not you, the ultimate thrill-seeker. You want to come visit Tallinn because at any second, you could be caught up in a something…extreme.

[A member of the stag party stumbles into the narrator and projectile vomits on him]

Narrator: Biohazard! Biohazard! Get the extinguishers!

[Two members of the film crew begin hosing the narrator down with what look like fire extinguishers. The screen fades to black. 30 seconds of extreme guitar solo]

An American think tank named the Center for Strategic & International Studies recently published the results of a poll they conducted, which revealed that half of the ethnic Russians living in Estonia think Stalin did more good than harm. It’s an interesting point, and one that deserves exploration — by someone else.

The question that comes to my mind is how far this logic can be stretched: if the Man of Steel, responsible for the deaths of between 3 and 60 million people through execution, gulag imprisonment, deportations to Siberia, deliberately-imposed famine, and a laundry list of other chapter titles from the Sociopath’s Quick-reference Guidebook did more good than harm, what else can we say the same about?

Can we pick any random historical tragedy and try to claim that its net effect was positive, without actually identifying any positive effect it had and instead ambiguously insisting that it simply changed the course of history for the better? Hey, it’s Monday morning — why not.

The Black Death did more good than harm.

In the middle of the 14th century, a plague broke out across Europe that wiped out between 30 and 60% of the continent’s population and reduced the world’s population by about a quarter. The plague is generally accepted to have traveled to Europe from China via rodents, who carried plague-infected fleas with them as stowaways on merchant ships. Early symptoms of the plague included swollen sores on the inner thighs which oozed puss and spewed blood when dissected. Most of those afflicted died within two to seven days of infection.

But was the black death really all that bad? Every movie I’ve ever seen set in medieval Europe makes it out to be a crowded, filthy, prostitute-ridden hellscape. Reserving a table at a restaurant must have been a chore. Rent prices were probably sky high in the centers of towns, and the transportation choices for a morning commute were limited. And can you imagine the state of public bathrooms? Yuck! Sure, for those experiencing puss-oozing crotch sores and days of agonizing pain and endless vomiting, the black death was pretty miserable. But the net effect of a large-scale population decline in overcrowded urban areas was a more comfortable life for the lucky few who survived — which sounds like a win to me!

What about the effect of the black death on culture? Had the plague never gripped Europe, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy the classic 2010 British horror film, Black Death. Which would be a shame — because Black Death stars Sean Bean, who plays Ulric, a knight obsessed with killing the necromancer responsible for summoning the plague (the movie isn’t entirely historically accurate). One year after appearing in Black Death, Sean Bean graced our television screens as Eddard Stark in Game of Thrones — one of the greatest TV series of all time.

So had the black death not cut the population of Europe in half in the mid-14th century, the world would be without the film Black Death. And if the world was without the film Black Death, Sean Bean may never have been “discovered” and subsequently cast as Eddard Stark, the main character in the first season of Game of Thrones. And without a lead character, the producers of Game of Thrones may have never embarked upon creating what I consider to be the grandest achievement in human history. Obviously that would be a far greater tragedy than the loss of life on a massive scale.

So why not apply this “butterfly effect” argumentation to every tragedy or madman in human history and claim that nothing catastrophic was truly bad — merely transformative. Pol Pot? Chernobyl? Pinochet? Why not claim that these people and disasters did more good than harm in the long run?

Two reasons. The first is that no human being is able to comprehend and evaluate the symphony of infinite events unceasingly taking place in unison. Therefore, it’d be impossible for anyone to say that any one event or person made the world a better place than had they not existed or happened. It’s pretty much the theme from every time travel-based science fiction movie ever made.

And the second reason? It’s because saying Stalin did more good than harm makes you look like an asshole.