You sidle up to where the members of U2 are sitting, cross-legged and otherwise, on a blanket on the grass in a small park. They appear to be sharing a package of store-bought cookies.
"Guys can I talk to you for a minute?" you say.
Without waiting for an answer or invitation, you squeeze in between Larry Mullen Jr. and Bono.
"I want to talk to you about the money you owe me," you say, rather boldly.
They say nothing, so you continue. No one offers you a cookie, you notice.
