I find myself in Los Angeles chasing Britney Spears down empty city streets. She isn't wearing her wig, and is still completely bald. I'm trying to think of any excuse to start talking to her, because I want to tell her I feel really bad about how the paparazzi and the media treat her, and that I'm so sorry the original version of her new video leaked (before they touched it up to make her look 50 pounds lighter). I figure I will offer her a hat, but can't find one in my bag.
Suddenly I see a bag of winter clothes on the sidewalk and recognize them as my own. Dig through frantically; find no hats. Only scarves. Figure that offering Britney Spears a scarf will have to do.
Look up; she's gone and I'm standing on the porch of some other socialite's porch. It's winter, but their front lawn is kept warm by their money. A boy is lounging on a lawn chair and talking on a cell phone a few yards away. He shrugs when I apologize for being on his porch and tell him I don't know how I got there.