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It was kind of like being in a film by Emir Kusturica. Only louder and more piercing. Even with my earplugs in, my fantasies about hurling tomatoes at them grew stronger and stronger, until the only thing stopping me from rushing them and pelting the band members with rotten vegetables was the total lack of available produce. I wanted to run them over with a produce truck. I wanted to grab the guy with the tin can by the collar and scream "THIS IS NOT MUSIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" We come unglued. Well, I do. Hi. And that's exactly when I get tempted to become the shoe-thrower. When external situations -- triggers -- are setting off the hard.