I lived on the rooftop of the a building near the beach with Laura. It smelled really bad, just like the waterfront, like piss and saltwater and dead fish. Nonetheless, it was really expensive. To get in, we had to climb this ladder up the side of the building that was made of fresh, untreated pine boards. Each had the legend DO NOT INVENTORY painted on it in green block letters. Laura and I were going to move because it was too expensive. So we were trying to use the phone to get in touch with Jimmy and Kelly, for some reason. But the phone wouldn't work! I climbed down the ladder, found a payphone, and dialed PacBell. I chewed them out: we haven't left yet! Damn you! Now they can call in but we can't call out! Damn it! ARRRGH!! BLAH BLAH BLAH I hung up the phone angrily and looked around. I was in front of some kind of 'Hotel'. But the entryway was kind of a dock. People would sail up, get off their boats, and their boats would be sailed off by valets. I rushed back up the ladder. Some kind of calamity had transpired. All these people were in the apartment, including some firemen, some police, a few young boys, and their father. I was talking to one who was about twelve, and he was complaining that he didn't have anything to read. His father produces a huge tome and drops it on his son's head: "read this," he advised.