Get over yourself. Nobody is stalking you. You come off like you're restraining your own jubilation over this 'incident'. You met a weirdo in Portland, big deal, move on.

You should've grabbed the phone, put it in your crack, and walked in place.

Maybe move back to where you came from...

You really think someone is going to stab you now? What the heck?

You should have stayed in Forest Grove and never made Little People Big World. Now you've sentenced your whole family to living a life as a televised circus sideshow.

We are all watching you. You know that occasional voice that suggests you are the only real person in the world, and everyone else is here watching you and playing out a grand drama for your benefit? That voice is right.

It must be rough, constantly having to battle the local paparazzi.

This wouldn't happen if you would go to a Regal Cinema as you are supposed to.

The phone crack meme is amazing.

Postscript: The peculiar fact that weirdos have suddenly developed a desire to become documentary producers in this new NSA/ Google Glasses era seemed intriguing and possibly worthy of tossing out there.
Or, in this case, dropping with a resounding splat. Needs work.
It can be seen that the roles of both the sane and the insane shift with time and fashion. Madmen all used to be Napoleon.

When I feel like having my improv recorded on the street, I usually just perform before an ATM. It drives the NSA bonkers.