I dreamed, I tell my friends, that there was a freak hailstorm in Chelsea. A black Camaro ran a red at about twice the speed limit right in front of me. When a heavy Chevron tanker saw me in the crosswalk I heard the squeal of brakes and a slow and beautiful rollover unfolded before me, hurtling slowly westward. As the tumbling truck began to catch fire I ran toward the water as fast as I could until I reached the Javits Center. Avoiding the exhibits I climbed into the ceiling ventilation to catch the subway uptown for another first date. Train delays meant that I had two unintentional dates on the subway proper before arriving at 72nd St. It turned out she was a single mother. Her baby was ten months old and had not yet begun to speak, she told me, because she was half neandertal. Wasn't she worried that the baby would be taken away from her, I asked? That's why she was looking for a boyfriend, she told me.