Paul was striding through Washington Square Park aimlessly, with his Striker slung across his right shoulder, when he spied Aqualung on one of the benches. Aqualung was a permanent downtown fixture and he couldn't remember the Village without him. His nickname wasn't earned by his appearance; he was rather well kept, though everyone agreed that he was probably homeless. His clothes were always clean though patched and shabby, and his hair was always well combed and gathered into a pony tail that reached his shoulder blades. Aqualung had the physique of a blacksmith, and some people claimed they've once seen him lift a car off of some unfortunate wino. Anyway, his nickname was derived from the fact that whenever he was performing, it was always that good old classic from A to Z or rather from Aqualung to Wind-Up. He had a pleasant baritone, and he managed to get a great sound out of his weathered acoustic guitar.

Aqualung spied Paul at about the same time and called out to him, asking for some musical help. Paul was a gangly youth in his late twenties, who'd just decided to forgo a promising career in data processing in favor of guitar playing. Even though somewhat shy in front of an audience, he always looked for opportunities to fight this handicap. So, he took his guitar out of the gig bag, plugged it into the Mini-Mouse slung on his belt, and proceeded to check his tuning.  His Striker was a regular bargain that he had got off some kid who didn't know how to deal with stringing a Floyd Rose tail piece. Though some of the blocks were missing, tightening the screws directly onto the string end ball was not a problem at all, and Paul thought the neck was very fast. Aqualung was already up to 'Wanderin' Aloud' and Paul, who was not very happy with straight covers, was very pleased that Aqualung always liked to mess around with the songs. As a matter of fact he had never heard Aqualung do a song the same way twice.