Perched on a faded and filthy green bench in his underpants and a pair of socks, a skinny, swaying man tried to call his wife before the police did.


Another man scattered a pocketful of change across the room and stormed out -- through the wrong door -- as he tried to leave the building, convinced that the police had stolen his money. A policeman escorted him out, and five minutes later the man returned, insisting that the police had also stolen his second pair of glasses -- the only ones through which he could see.


"What am I meant to do?" he shouted. "Those were my eyes. I can't live now."


At 8 P.M. Tuesday, the Krasnopresnensky men's drunk tank was just beginning to get busy. After touring the streets of Moscow in search of anyone drunk enough to threaten public order, policemen brought offenders directly to the station, where a doctor assessed their drunkenness and gave them between three and 24 hours to sober up.


The sound of someone pounding on the door emerged from behind the reception room. Then -- hysterical, wailing laughter, and the yells of a third man insisting that he was sober. Another begged for a cigarette.


The policeman on duty sighed, rolled his eyes and slowly went to restore order.


At the end of a short corridor, right next to the bathroom, 17 men lay sprawled on cots, most of them either snoring or profusely swearing.


"It's the most frustrating job," said Sasha, another policeman. "It's like dealing with little children -- all the time, and you know that there's nothing you can do to make them stop."


But Sasha, who refused to give his last name, said the regular visitors were by far the most well-behaved.


"They just get undressed and go lie down. It's the first-timers that kick up a fuss and argue and insist that they're sober."


One of these was 23-year-old Alexei Rafiyev. Rafiyev had been picked up by the police early in the afternoon, after allegedly smashing a glass pane with his head.


"The drunk tank is the culmination of love," he said as he left the building, almost sober. "It's an institution that destroys human dignity -- they take your clothes off and then you have to abide by all their laws."


Not to mention the 20,500 ruble ($6.20) fine.


Although the police are frequently accused of taking bribes from people eager to get out, Sasha, who has been working there for 16 years, insisted that unlike in the past, they rarely receive any offers.


"Most of these people are unemployed," he said, "They can barely afford the fine."


Sasha also speculated that for those who did have jobs, the consequences of having been in the drunk-tank are no longer as dire as they used to be, when the police would call employers to report on the people they had picked up.


"Sometimes people used to try to hang themselves rather than face the consequences at work," he said. "But nowadays employers wouldn't care so much anyway."


While the police still call the families of the men they detain, Sasha said this rarely seemed to bother either the men or their wives.


"Most of them are used to it by now," he said.


On the whole, he said, his job has become more difficult over the last few years.


"Before there was freedom of speech, people used to just take their clothes off and sign the papers," he said, "Now they argue more, and they think they can say whatever they want."