 I took the tickets, by the way. And they said, well, wait a minute, just give us a telephone number where we can reach you and let us take a Polaroid picture. So the Polaroid is, of course, with me with one hand on the doorknob ready to leave. And I wish I still had that picture. And the telephone number I decided to give them just in case was my father's office phone number. Now, my dad's a criminal lawyer, right?