Usually when a handsome, chiseled foreigner with a fitted baby-blue tank top tucked into his Levi's offers to take us for a ride on his magic carpet, we smile coyly, mumble an excuse, and keep walking. But something about this man took us by surprise: we can't tell if it was the perfectly-cropped widow's peak or the smell of a 27-year vintage Intel 80286 wafting from underneath his fingernails. Long story short, we followed him home and never looked back.