So, I lived in Beverly Hills (90210, as we refer to it), and I think I go to college there. I was hanging out with my friend, and we were messing around with our hazardous gas evacuation procedure (something probably triggered by watching NCIS when Abby's lab had cyanide gas in it...). He tells me to stay behind the closed door where you can still see through the little window in the door, press myself up against it, and hold out my ID badge. So I did, then when I came out, I was like, "Did it look like Stargate?" At least I thought that's what we were going for.
We went back to do it again, but this time, the door had become the (wrought iron) gate of my friend's mansion, and his fiancee came up, asking if I was somehow implying that their marriage was doomed to failure. I wasn't exactly sure how she reached that conclusion, but it looked like they wanted me to leave. Behind my friend and his fiancee, on the other side of the gate, I briefly saw this girl with long black hair and (face? still working on who she reminded me of), who I must have known at least somewhat. My recollection was that she was sort of a bitch, in the broad sense of the term, but that I liked her for some reason.
Later, I had taken my posse from college and we had all gone to Texas to catch up with that girl. We walked into a local food establishment, and went into a back room where not many people were actually eating, and many people weren't even sitting at tables. Several were simply standing up against the side wall near a back door. It was winter, so everyone was wearing boots. Sure enough, the girl from earlier was there (for convenience, let's call her Monica), except that she had dyed her black hair to a dirty blonde. She was one of the ones leaning against the side wall, hanging out. One of the girls next to her was the sister of another friend of mine (we were trying to recall what his name was later... Dave? Wayne?). His sister lived (or went to school?) in New Zealand but was going to school (or visiting? or studying abroad?) here in Texas. She also lived in eastern Colorado? The details were getting kind of confusing. There was another girl leaning against the wall too, near Monica. I didn't know her name but thought she was exceptionally cute.
So, the posse (of however many people) has all come into the room, some of them standing on the stairs that turn up to the second floor. People ask where we all came from, and someone in the posse says, very deliberately, as if he has to try to remember each number as he's saying it, we're from "9.. 0.. 2.. 1.. 0." Monica asks what we're all doing here. I hesitate, and one of the guys from the posse gives me a look of encouragement. I tell Monica, "I came here..." I hesitate some more, already regretting what I'm going to say next, because Wayne's sister and the other girl both seem like such great opportunities -- I look them over again, and continue: "... for you." Monica looks surprised, but soon turns out to be impressed, and agrees to go out with me. My feelings are muddled. She mumbles something about breaking it off with someone else, but I figure that's a minor detail.
She asks me if I want to go with her to another place, or, on second thought, what about bowling? I agree that bowling would be cool. She heads out into the front room and I go with her, but as we reach another side exit, I realize that I am no longer wearing my boots. I must have taken them off while we were talking. I go back to the back room and find them, and start putting them on. I'm really annoyed by how long it takes to put the first boot on, having to retighten the laces before I can tie them. Plus it's a little cold and the laces are a little wet, so that's tricky for my fingers too. Then I go to put the right boot on. I stick my foot in, and realize that it feels too soft, and then notice that it's totally not my right boot at all. My boots are mostly leather brown, while this boot has some blue nylon cushioning near the ankle. So, I walk around the back area, looking for someone who has the other boot with blue cushioning, figuring they probably have my right boot. I do find someone who has the wrong boot, and they hand me what they think is my boot, but it's a little bigger than mine, and has a different logo on it.
I get more annoyed, and walk back towards the front area, and as I'm passing into the front, I look back down and see that my correct right boot is on my foot now, which is a relief. I chat a little bit with a couple closer friends from the posse. One of them mentions that if we want, we can take some items of Wayne's sister's from Wayne's mansion, because she doesn't want to move all that stuff back to New Zealand. That's about the end of that dream.
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