So I'm standing right in front of the mike stand. Early in the show, Todd cranks out a killer Black Maria, and as he goes to put the pick back in the mike stand, I stick my hand out, as if to ask for it. He takes a step back and asks "Didn't your mother tell you that patience is a virtue?" I just smiled. He says "Don't you think you have a better chance of getting a pick than say...that guy back there?" pointing toward the back of the room. I'm thinking to myself...well, no. I've waited in line for four hours, before 30 shows, over 20 years, to get to lean on the stage to watch the show front and center, and you always wing the pick to that guy in the back. Lots of creeps help themselves to a pick from the stand, but not me. My Mom taught me not to steal. I want you to give me one. I want a pick that Todd gave me. Of course I didn't say anything. I knew he was just playing with me while he caught his breath. I just smiled and nodded in agreement. Over an hour later, Todd finishes the show with a scorching Worldwide Epiphany, struts up to the edge of the stage and presses the pick into my hand with a thrust as if to say "take that mother fucker!". Now that's the pick I always wanted. I picked the string stubs off the rug, the guitar tech gave the rest of the string and another pick to my daughter.