In my early flying days we stopped frequently at Lajes AB in the Azores to refuel and head further east to Europe or the mid-east.

We rarely left the base and were usually only there for about 3 hours.

Later in my career, when I was Director of Accounting and Finance for Military Airlift Command (MAC), Lajes was one of the 16 MAC bases I had financial responsibility for.
On a staff visit there I heard there were Bull Fights in town on the island.  Sooooo, off duty, several of us, including 3 ladies from the finance office, headed to town to see the bull fights.  I was expecting to see an arena with matadors and fans shouting, “Olay!”   

After walking a few blocks, following someone from the office, I still haven’t seen an arena. Then, suddenly, we heard the sound of young men running, and from around a corner we saw them running with a big ass bull chasing close behind.  They were running right at us.  
OK.  It’s every man for himself.  Me and another officer colleague raced up a steep hill toward safety and a residence.  We literally left the staff ladies to fend for themselves. 

Chivalry died that day.

From our safe perch, we watched a young man who got too close to the bull, jump a fence to escape.   The damn bull jumped the fence after him and gored him just a little.  It was enough to impress his girlfriend watching from a close by window and gained him a well-deserved round of applause. I could say that she came out and gave him a big kiss, but that would be fiction, aka a lie.