Dream CXCVIII

I was doing some work for my old boss, Kevin, setting up a large storage warehouse for a celebration of the President's birthday.  Mostly I was running wires and cable, and setting up some structural support.  The other crew were great guys, eager to help and with good suggestions.

Kevin had also brought along William Riker for other duties.  I'm not sure what he was supposed to do--mostly he wandered around the space, half-smiling and wearing a navy blue trenchcoat.  But he and I never interacted so I didn't give it much thought.

One of the events of the upcoming party was a platform that would roll along the floor toward an overhang full of onlookers.  Riker would stand at the back, berating and insulting the President's chief of security, who would be standing at the front.  It was all good natured fun, and a tradition.  This year would be different, in that the President himself would be standing at the back doing the insulting.  So we had to make sure the platform moved smoothly.

Well, the platform worked perfectly, the party was a big hit, and everyone had a great time.  Afterward, I put on my jacket and walked through the nearly empty warehouse.

I passed by Riker.  "Pretty good party, huh?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, though he seemed in a sour mood.  All at once he threw an open can of paint at me; my jacket got splashed thoroughly with light blue paint.

I turned.  "What the hell?"

He glowered.  "I don't think you showed my wife the right amount of respect," he said.

I was stunned into silence.  I hadn't even met his wife.

I took out my cell phone and called my old boss.  "Hi Kevin, I can't do any more work with you.  Not if you're going to have Riker on the crew."  I told what had happened, and Kevin was shocked and offered to buy a replacement jacket.  "The jacket's not the important part," I said.