Bad timing

So here we are, in the days between holidays, tourism doldrums. The street at twilight is empty for an hour or more -- no pedestrians, no dog-walkers, no bikes, no scooters, no motorcycles, no cars, no trucks. No one.

The light fades, I put my book down, and the streetlights come on. No one.

A man walks unsteadily around the corner. He squeezes between the two cars nearest the corner, into the walkway. Odd, I think: There's no one saying in that unit. Then it's clear: he wedges himself into the space between car and garden, fiddles with his trousers and is obviously peeing.

Not five seconds into it, cue the crowd: A car comes south, headlights on full. The man keeps going, head turning. Then one car north. Then four people going down to the bars. The streetlight is bright. Then a dog-walker. Then another, and then a scooter. Then another knot of tourists on foot, then another.

One more car passes. The man shakes his head a few times, steadies himself against the car hood, zips up, shakes his head again and walks unsteadily back around the corner.

Not his day to play the lottery.