"Some people wear suits...

...cause they think they look important." A guy in his early forties looked at me with drunk seriousness, a hat, rather nineties-boys-band-style, put backwards on his head. "I'm much more important then any of them... You know, I've got a gun here, in my rucksack..." He moved like if he wanted to show it to me. We were standing in front of a five stars massage parlour. "I believe you!" I said quickly. "You don't believe me a shit! You don't know who I am! Even if somebody calls Police I'll be fine!" There was a very fat car parked next to us (clearly some customers from Dubai or Saudi Arabia). "Ask that guy how much did he pay for this car... I will buy it from him right now!" He was swaying gently. "Are you all right?" - I asked. "K'mon!" - I added - "Take a seat. I will get you somewhere else." "Ok! Let's go to eat something! I invite you!" There was nothing open, except for a McDonald's. He didn't seem to like it much. "Is there any Arabic food around here?" "It's half four already, you see? Everything is shut by now..." We got in. "It's the second time in my life that I eat at McDonald's... I like real food, you know! You don't know who I am... I doesn't matter though, cause practically I'm the same like you..." I asked him what was his job. He smiled and said: "Just being a crazy drunk and hanging around, in the night like now..." We ate quickly, standing, and went out. "You've got to visit me, we need to meet again!" We shook hands. He got in a black cab and drove off. Charlie Chaplin smiled.