Decades ago now, when we were still in the NO, my parents went to "Adoration"; they arrived to find someone playing rock music for "mood" in the chapel. So my gruff old Hungarian Dad walked out, went into the sacristy, and demanded to know of the priest, "Who's the bloody idiot who allowed this music?" (said with a very thick Hungarian accent), knowing full well that it was the very priest he was addressing. He also would sit in the front row for Mass every Sunday. And the priest would always walk down to shake hands with people during the "Sign of Peace". My Dad would refuse and would respond, "May God have mercy on your soul." He would constantly go up to the Pastor and ask him "When are you planning on retiring, Father?" When a Eucharistic Minister showed up to distribute on his side of the aisle, he would cut all the way across to the other side and completely foul up the logistics, blocking people on the other side, so he could receive Communion from a priest. He was a real character and a thorn in their side.