So yes, Cookie, I did spend more time trying to get the visa than I did in Russia. And in hindsight, I realize that in my eagerness to get a visa I may have rushed things, more than necessary.

Or else, I wouldn’t have had this conversation with Igor:

Risto: Um, listen, I just realized that the game is played kind of late .. and … you know, my visa expires today … soooooo, I was wondering if you’d be able to have a car for me right after the game to take me to the airport….”

Igor: No problem.

Me again: … because, you know, I just have to get there and to the other side of the passport control…

Igor (standing at 6-5, and weighing 220 lbs): No problem.

Igor two hours later (smiling, now leaning back in his chair): Khristo. No problem. I call the border office, and I tell them, and they say, “no problem”. They say, ‘two hours no problem’, hahaha!”

Me (feeling small, staring at the gap between Igor’s teeth): Thanks, Igor. Spasiba. Really. And … so … there’s the car waiting for me?

Igor: Yes. But is no problem.

After the game, after I had filed my game report, I rushed down to the car. I was supposed to be riding with three guys from a Finnish TV station, so I needed to wait for them. I was calm, though. I had an hour and half until the date would turn to the 20th.

Then they told me they’d just have to do a couple of stand-ups by the rink, and then they’d be ready to go. They left their luggage in the arena lobby, and disappeared inside again.

I carried their luggage into the car, and came back to wait for them. Fifteen minutes later, the three of them – play-by-play, color guy, and the cameraman – walked through the doors, and I told them excitedly that we were set to go.

(“Our luggage? Did you…” they said. “Yeah, i had nothing else to do,” I replied, faking modesty).

Only, the cameraman had to go and send the stuff they had just shot back to Finland. But, there shouldn’t be any problems, he said, because it would only take five minutes. (During the game, the connection had disappeared several times, but we’re optimists, I guess).

Twenty minutes later, at 23:10, I started to get nervous. I mean, I couldn’t think of a good reason for the Russian officials to want to keep me in the country, but you never know. At 23:20, we got a hold of the cameraman, and he told us he was on his way. Three minutes later, he climbed in, and we took off.

We get to the airport at 23:45, almost midnight, in other words. And what’s worse, the team I was traveling with has already made it there and they’re in front of me in the line. I spot the team’s lone Swede in the line, so I casually walk towards him and we start to chat, and – as they say in Sweden – vips, I’m ahead of him in the queue.

My bags go through the metal detector at 23:55.

I get my boarding pass at 23:57. (I know all this because I was holding onto my iPhone to check the time.)

At 23:59, I hand my passport to the customs official. She looks at me, doesn’t say a word. Looks at the passport. I look at my phone again. Still 23:59. I smile. She smiles. She stamps my passport a few times and hands it over to me.

I’m out of Russia.