it’s 1994, and you’re in Brooklyn, New York because you’re seeing Type O Negative live. You got front row seats, and you scream your head off during the whole show. At one point, you swear you see Peter wink at you. After the show, you’re walking back to your hotel room alone when you pass by a tall and well-built man who’s smoking outside the venue. He approaches you and says in a deep voice that sends shivers down your spine

“Hey, you need someone to walk with you to your car?”