"You came to meet me," he said, surprised.
"Well, no, I had no idea you were coming back today, let alone now," I told him.
We looked over to an opposite corner, where we saw a local performance artist standing completely still. His performance involved living completely naked, for a month, inside a storefront with a huge windows. Every so often, he would stand still for hours, as though he was a mannequin.
"He's at it again," I motioned toward the naked man.
"What's happened to the oil in my car?" I ask the guys.
"I've never seen anything like that," one of them says.
"The problem must be bigger than I thought. Can you fix it?"
"Don't know," they say, and laugh, because the situation is so askew.
I turn over the ignition again and again, but the car won't start. Instead the radiator steams. I'm stuck, I'm going nowhere.
"What's really in there?" I ask.
"Oh! It's always that way!" she cries, and stomps out of the room, having a tantrum.
The shoes were also a size too small for me, and old, clunky dress shoes that looked like they came from a thrift store. I thought I could just wear them like mittens, but the scientist told me I couldn’t do that.
“The sensors are arranged just so,” he said, using the pointer to show me a can of tomato soup. There, on the small label, was a diagram of the shoe schematics. “No socks either, or your feet will overheat the circuits.”