I'm in art school w/ some classmates as we get set to go to lunch. I ask a few others if they also have Lang (a professor we don't like) for both Mondays & Tuesdays. A classmate walks by pushing a stroller and a weird kids' toy. She walks by a large hole in the ground. As I'm chatting with the classmates, a young woman walks by the window. From the back, it looks like she's wearing a tank top but the front is exposed. She's turning heads everywhere she goes. "That's some hot shit," I say, "I haven't even seen (her breasts) and that's some hot shit." "There's Oliver Babish," one guy says, gesturing out the window. Oliver Platt is walking on stilts down the street. The guy yells for him, "Hey Oliver!"

Later...

I'm going into a dry cleaner's next door to my dad's Subway. The old man at the counter seems to be asleep. The lights are our and he ignores me as I try to talk to him. I suspect he's being robbed and I nonchalantly leave. After I step outside, I take my phone out to call the police. I try to sneak a look at the dry cleaner's awning for his phone number but only see my dad's Subway awning. Inside the old man's shop (which is now also a Subway), employees have appeared and are busy making party subs & platters. I'm confused about what to do.