The Romanian city of Tulcea, a picturesque delta town known for its pelicans and dubious fish stew, has been plunged into a state of jittery bewilderment following a drone strike that landed a bit too close for comfort. The attack, which occurred at an ungodly hour on Tuesday, left a crater the size of a small car and a population suddenly very aware that the war in Ukraine is not a television drama but a noisy, smelly, and frankly rude intrusion into their lives.
'No-one feels safe now,' said local florist Maria Ionescu, her hands trembling slightly as she arranged a bouquet of wilting carnations. 'I was just closing up shop when I heard this terrible buzzing. I thought it was a giant wasp, but no, it was a drone. A drone with bad intentions and a payload.'
The drone, presumably Russian in origin, veered off course during a night raid on Ukrainian port infrastructure across the Danube. It instead decided to explore the charms of Romanian real estate, leaving a smoking hole in a field near the town's airport. The Romanian Air Force, caught napping but now fully awake, scrambled jets to patrol the skies, presumably to glare menacingly at any wayward unmanned aircraft.
Local authorities have called for calm, which is the official phrase for 'please don't panic, even though we're panicking.' The mayor of Tulcea, a man with the weary expression of someone who has just discovered his holiday villa is in a war zone, assured residents that Romania's NATO membership is a 'steel umbrella,' conveniently forgetting that umbrellas don't work against drones. 'We are safe,' he insisted, while ordering the construction of additional bomb shelters shaped like large flowerpots.
The incident has sparked a furious debate about air defence, with opposition politicians demanding to know why Romania's billion-dollar Patriot missile system couldn't intercept a drone the size of a seagull with a grudge. The Defence Ministry responded that the system was 'not designed for low-flying, erratically-moving objects,' which many took to mean 'we were having a tea break.'
Meanwhile, the citizens of Tulcea are adapting to their new reality. The local bar reported a 400% increase in sales of taplita, a potent Romanian brandy, presumably to 'settle nerves.' A new game has emerged among children: 'Spot the Drone,' where they squint at the sky and shout 'Bingo!' when they see a bird. Their parents are less amused. 'I used to worry about the tourists stealing my recipes,' said a fisherman, 'now I worry about being blown up by a robot with anger issues.'
This story is far from over. Tulcea, once a sleepy backwater, is now the frontline of a bizarre new war where the enemy is invisible, silent, and piloted by a man in a basement eating borscht. The world watches, or rather, looks up occasionally to check if that buzzing sound is a wasp or a harbinger of doom.
Our advice: invest in drone insurance, learn to identify the difference between a military drone and a delivery drone (hint: one has missiles, the other has your Amazon parcel), and keep a bottle of taplita handy. Just in case.
