While most people kept stopping to avoid invading my shot, the old gentleman on the left crossed in front of me, then turned and walked back in front of me, repeating this about a half dozen times inside of a minute. That takes cajones. I figure New-York-size cajones like that deserve to be rewarded, so... meet Mr. Angry Blue Shirt Dude.

I'm quite certain he'd be unimpressed that the smoke appears to be billowing from a passing truck, but it wasn't lost on me.