“The majority of the craziest shit that happens to you as a band is in the ‘van-and-trailer’ days. That’s when you find yourself in the weirdest, most unique situations. After West Palm Beach in Florida, the first place that blew up for us was Augusta, Georgia. We were coming back at the end of a tour to play this old hole-in-the-wall laundromat, a long, narrow venue called Sector 7G. It was sold out, with 300 to 400 people in this tiny venue that could realistically only fit a little over 100. As we were about to go on, the Fire Marshal shows up and tells us we’ve got to shut the show down. It was about to be the sickest show of all time and I was like, ‘We’re kickin’ into Fast Forward To 2012 and they can stop me if they want to!’ Then they came up to me and told me that if I played one note he was going to arrest me for inciting a riot. I didn’t want to go to jail, but I knew that would be the hardest fucking charge to have on your record: inciting a riot in Augusta. I didn’t do it in the end. Honestly, to this day, I look back like, ‘I should have done it!’”