C. and I were in the Caribbean somewhere. I think it was supposed to be Puerto Rico, but it was someplace that still had a king and a monarchy. We were touring the royal palace when some sort of rebels began to attack it with rockets. We began fleeing the building as blasts of rubble shot past us on all sides, fragments narrowly missing us.
Out in the main square in front of the palace, all the shop-keepers were eager to get away during the explosions, so they were selling their wares at, like, 75% off or more, just to clear out their stock so they could flee unencumbered. So we bought a bunch of very nice silk scarves, and a couple of hats.
On the flight home, the little TVs in the seatbacks were showing strange, like, European art-house films about nudists.