The musician toots on his horn. You’ve heard about this guy, he’s the master of the Seuss-a-phone. The only Seuss-a-phone master, with the only Seuss-a-phone. He plays for awhile then stops abruptly. "I’m sorry people," he exclaims, "I just don’t feel comfortable playing with this person in the room." He points directly toward you and recoils in horror. "If anyone wants me, I’ll be at the Masonic Temple Theatre downtown." The Seuss-a-phone player then runs swiftly out the back door. The crowded room is deadly silent and everyone’s eyes are on you.

You debate following the musician to apologize or heading back out onto Morris Ave., but you don’t debate getting out of here immediately.