On July 4, 2012 at 11:45 PM, the black market is open at Plaza Mayor in Madrid, Spain. People sell sunglasses, purses, folding fans, watches, and other popular goods. The police arrive and the African, Chinese and Arab merchants scurry and flee. It’s a cat and mouse chase as many of them run into the metro station.
A mariachi band plays to a dancing crowd. Street performers compete for attention – and tips. It’s a vibrant plaza and people are starting to get drunk.
A coed group of folks in their mid-twenties steps into a bar.
A lonely young man attempts a drunken courtship with a young woman.
“You are getting drunk,” says the young man. He has a hairline that reaches his chest. His side burns connect to his beard and run up his cheeks.
“The drunker I get, the better chance you have at getting lucky with me,” answers the pretty young woman. “I’m on vacation.”
Her eyes are getting smaller. She touches his leg. He better close the deal with haste.
He blunders by excusing himself to go to the restroom.
A taller guy in a blue shirt swoops in and takes the unfortunate man’s vacated seat. His wooing techniques are more refined. Right away he is touching her face, her shoulder and her leg. She is receptive to his early advances.
The hairy man returns, sees what is happening, drops his head, and looks dejected.
The man in the blue shirt is getting obnoxious. On top of that, his hair is thinning. The young woman loses interest in him.
He moves on and starts over with a nerdy girl wearing big glasses. Our protagonist gets another shot at the pretty young woman.
Minutes later, the man in the blue shirt leaves with the spectacled woman and our friend, the hairy protagonist, leaves with the pretty young tipsy lady. All is well.