Joe, Marc, and I were on the elevated train going to the Bronx because Marc wanted to learn Hebrew so I was taking him to Hebrew school.  Only, when we got to the Bronx, I didn’t know where the school was so I left the boys at a park and went to a nearby office where I asked if they had a telephone book I could use.  They gave me the only one they had but there were no Hebrew schools listed and I was leaving, walking through a person’s living room, when I saw some more telephone books so I stopped to see if I could find a school listing.  I kept explaining how my father went to Hebrew school and it was very important to my son to learn Hebrew, that he had remembered the information—the name and address of the school—but forgot by the time we got off the train.  I give up trying to find the listing and go back to the park where I find an older Joe hanging out with some friends, sitting at a table eating food.  Joe is obviously angry with me for dragging him along and being too cool around his friends.  I don’t see Marc anywhere and I’m ready to go home.  Joe throws some cash on the table to pay for his part of the bill as he leaves his friends.