There was an intensity to his stare which could not be explained. He was irate and I didn’t know why. From across the room, he pointed in my direction until I noticed. I looked around the restaurant to see if there was another patron whose attention he was vying for. The surrounding booths and tables were empty. It wasn’t until I pointed to my torso that a smile crossed his face as he nodded with agreement.

Dismayed, he stood and extended one of his middle fingers at me. Whatever pleasure he derived from flipping me off was well masked within the angry grimace that showed on his face. It looked like he had sucked on a lemon or maybe that was his natural demeanor. It felt like he was trying to bully me from afar.

I took a closer look at the decor, hopeful to discover some clue why this interaction was taking place. Unfamiliar with the area, I hoped not to have inadvertently wandered into a private social club or hangout for one of the local gangs. Those thoughts were dismissed quick. If that had been the case, I never would have been permitted to walk through the front door. Unable to find an suitable explanation, I returned my attention to the gentleman across the room.

When our eyes again met, I opted to mock him with a taunt of my own and stuck my tongue out. It wasn’t the most mature response but still better then shouting an obscenity filled rant in his direction. Even though he and I were the only two in the restaurant, some level of decorum was still required. Besides, an overreaction on my part might trigger a rage shooting. I had never heard about anyone getting shot for sticking out his tongue.

My actions incensed him. Before sitting, he looked down at the food on his table and shook his head from side to side. Though incoherent, he mumbled with displeasure. It looked like he was having an argument with himself. After spreading a cloth napkin on his lap, he snapped his head towards me and extended both middle fingers. I sat upright in my chair, folded my arms across my chest, and smiled at him. It was a broad, contented smile. I wanted him to know there was nothing he could say or do that was going to disrupt my positive mood.

Disgruntled, he stood and threw the napkin on the table with enough force it almost knocked over a glass of water. Storming across the room, he marched to where I sat and stood next to my chair, silent, glaring down at me. It wasn’t until he approached that I noticed his height. At most, he topped out at five foot two inches tall.

I stood and shoved my hands into my front pockets. Without saying a word, I stepped as close to him as possible without making physical contact. My six foot seven inch frame towered over him. Saying nothing, I looked down at the top of his head while he stared into my chest. A few seconds later, he arched his neck back, acknowledging my height, and took a step backwards. Subconsciously, he had been dominated. It had been accomplished without ever uttering a word.

A few seconds later, he stepped around me and disappeared into the bathroom. Without knowing what his plans were when he returned, I decided it was best for me to find a new restaurant to dine at. I gathered my belongings and headed for the door, spitting in his food before exiting the building.