Several years ago I saw A.C. at ABC No Rio (tiny punk community center on the Lower East Side of New York.) After the show, we were going to a bar with some of the band, when a guy across the street in a bright orange suit whom I'd never seen before in my life started calling my name, yelling "YOU LEFT YOUR DICTIONARY AT MY HOUSE!"

I tried to ignore him, but I have a pretty unusual name, so it was hard to pretend he was calling somebody else. I explained to my compatriots that I didn't, as far as I knew, know the guy, and that my dictionary was safely in place on my own bookshelf. On hearing this, Seth the vocalist started pulling bottles out of a nearby trash can and flinging them pretty hard at Mr. Orange, who sensibly enough turned tail and ran. The evening proceeded apace; we remained unmolested, and a rollicking good time was had by all, thanks to that spontaneous outburst of violence.