Sushi With Melanie  I'm with my friend Melanie McDyss. We've parked outside a building, maybe a restaurant. We're inside a porch-like area. She tells me her friend Erica Lange won't be able to make it on Friday, but that there is a sushi restaurant we could go to. She says I'd have to set my briefcase on beer in bottles made of fish (and sit on it?). This seems erotic. I'm interested. We walk out the door to leave as a man, woman, and their child walk in. We get in my housemate Jack Thigpen's car. I'm driving. I see a parking ticket in a big orange-yellow envelope under the passenger side windshield wiper. I get out and remove the ticket. I'm annoyed and agitated. There is a man who is attending to the building, and I ask him, in my thickest Australian accent, where the "no parking" sign is that resulted in me getting this ticket. He tells me that the band-aid fell off the sign. The band-aid is the sign. I get angry and I protest that I got a ticket despite there being no sign posted. He says it's still illegal if you take longer than you normally would. I'm mad! I get in the car. Melanie supports me, as if she is my girlfriend. There is a long line of cars behind me. The area by the building has very sandy, dry soil. There are rows of trees or bushes planted: an orchard or vineyard. I start to drive slowly, with all the cars behind me. I want to lay rubber but I don't because if I stall the vehicle I'll look like a fool trying to be "cool" in front of Melanie. I give the engine fuel and slowly release the clutch.