He strides through the customs towards the luggage belt, consciously uncoupled. He could use a nice fancy coffee but one look at the queue and he decides it can wait. At the tail end of the queue is a middle-aged blonde. She has a deep tan on her leathery skin. The pilot in front of her is telling her what sacrifices he makes for his job. They are clearly flirting. Just as he walks past the two of them, a wise guy starts singing, "oh oh oh.. I dream of paradise.. Oh oh oh.."
He sits facing the beach. He closes his eyes and takes in the smells. Then he opens his eyes to take in the sights. From the corner of his eye he spots a gang banger staring straight at him. A vein on his tattooed head is throbbing. "I thought it was real yo. Now look where I am. In rehab. You happy now?"
He starts fumbling in his pockets as the fan approaches. He avoids eye contact while searching for a phone that is not ringing. Got it, but the fan seems undeterred. The phone is at his ear now, as he begins conversing with no one. He turns his back to the rapidly approaching fan, who is now right beside him. He feels a tap on his shoulder. With a roll of his eyes he starts to explain that it is an important call. The fan informs him of his open fly and continues on his way.