I'm at my work, with a couple of people. I think I went on a climb with them, and we met here. As I'm parting company with them, I'm letting them out the back through some big glass double doors, and they're asking me what there is to do around here.

From the back doors we can see a building that is like the one across from the Trianon restaurant, a generic four-or-so-story office building. One door is marked "Russian History Museum" or somesuch, and they think that sounds interesting, so they go over there to check it out.

Then the Russians return the favor and bring three heavy American adults over to AP. Apparently now the doors connect the two buildings directly. They brush right in and start looking around the second floor of AP's offices curiously.

"I'm going to have to escort you out," I say, but apparently agree that I'll show them around first, and start telling them about our building and our business. I feel like it's my responsibility to keep an eye on them.

We come to the "instrument museum" in the front lobby, and I start to tell them about it, but it's all dark. As I'm hunting around for the light switch, I lose my tourists among the dozens of other people wandering around in the lobby and atrium, some of them being shown around by others.

As I look for them, I'm thinking about my impromptu speech, sort of congratulating myself on talking so smoothly without warning. As I'm thinking this, I walk into a semi-dark room full of about 30 or 40 young teenagers, listening to one of their own onstage making an impromptu speech, as if for practice. I'm still looking for my people, but I hear the kid onstage telling a story or joke about pretending to make phone calls.

"Oh, I'm just telling my girlfriend about that", I joke to the crowd, holding my hand up to my hear with the thumb and forefinger out to mimic a telephone. They all look at me, but they don't seem to get the joke.