"There was a farmer of Song who tilled the land, and in his field was a stump. One day a rabbit came racing across the field, bumped into the stump, broke its neck, and died. Thereupon the farmer laid aside his plow and took up watch beside the stump, hoping that he would get another rabbit in the same way." (Han Fei, 3rd cent. B.C.E.)

Your odds are so much worse at Market Days. I think I was there for like an hour, all told--and I hadn't planned to stop in at all. Too much resemblance to the boring, boisterous, beer-swilling straight street fairs of my youth.