Walking around a city looking for a lunch place (w a poet ergo a poetry dream tell him later) he ran a bit ahead and went through a pair of doors. I entered the doors and he was running down a long hallway and then jumping through what looked like a glass window at the entrance to the dining room. Upon inspection, there was no window but he had jumped onto the counter where the cash register was, had broken several glass pitchers of water, and had gone to wash up. The waitresses were laughing as it was a tradition, and I told them I was the barefoot guy who came with the guy who broke the glass.