“I am acquainted with them.”

“They had that noise blasting from the rec-room stereo, something about ‘hope I die before I get old.’ What nonsense! You don’t play music like that, do you Mr. Page?”

“Well, uh…”

“I know he got that from his father, bless his soul. He always had the radio on, listening to bands with funny names like Deep Purple and UFO. Do you know those bands, Mr. Page?”

“Look, lady. First of all, it’s not noise, it’s music. And yes, I do know those bands, also Foreigner and Santana. And finally, I’m responsible for a lot of that ‘noise.’ I’m not just a guitarist, I’m a rock god. For over thirty years, people have worshipped at my feet. Do you understand me?”

“My, oh my. It looks like someone will need an extra order of ice tomorrow morning. Are we feeling a bit stressed, Mr. Page?”

“It’s your bedside manner. It’s going over like a… like a…”

“Lead balloon, Mr. Page?”

“Close, but I was thinking of something a bit bigger.”