So I duck into the downtown post office and head for the service counters.
There's one employee on duty, and he is busy with a customer. One other person, a young man in a hoodie, is positioned about 10 or 15 feet away from the service counter.
I can't tell if he is waiting to be helped or if he is with the lone customer at the counter.
They make it pretty clear where you are supposed to stand to wait in there, and he is nowhere near that spot. But as he has his head down and is concentrating on his phone, it occurs to me that he might have failed to observe the sign. So I ask him if he is in line.
"Yes, I'm in line," he says in a vaguely hostile manner. Never looking up. Never looking at me.
Perhaps I interrupted him in the middle of a particulary crucial "Waaasssuppp?" text.
The headline: "Rookie Blogger Arrested for Decking Useless Punk on Federal Property" appears in my mind.
I start to explain about proper line-forming protocol and quickly decide not to waste my time.
I go stand where you are supposed to stand and wait my turn.