Friday afternoon in New York (or Whos Crazy Now?)

I’m sitting at my favorite coffee house next to a crazy person. He is talking to himself, gesturing and intermittently slapping his table. He is in his late 50s, clean and heavy set with a neatly trimmed grey beard. He comes here often, purchases a cappuccino and desert and stairs at women while talking to himself. I don't like him.

While he fetches his cappuccino, I consider moving away, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Instead I decide to vibe him when his behavior annoys me.

Being crazy is his prerogative, but there are norms that you need to follow when in public. If he wants to talk to himself, that’s fine. A lot of people are conversing so conversation is acceptable. However, slapping your table is not, I decide.

He returns and starts softly muttering curses and complaints. When he starts slapping his table, I glance up and flash dirty looks mostly to myself. He appears to notice but continues to intermittently slap his table.

The vibing is not working. I think I need to step up my disapproval. I stare at his hand as he slaps the table. He avoids my gaze and starts slapping his table almost constantly.

I think I’m getting used to the slapping. I don’t care anymore. I stop vibing him. He gets up and moves across the coffee shop to get away from me. I’m not hurt. Next time I will move.