"It's my restaurant, and that's how I'm going to stop you," Kornhaber bellows militantly. I am sure he is deeply committed to civil rights, the First Amendment and other such abstractions under other circumstances -- or then again, maybe not.

"So stop me," I challenge him. "Throw me out! Go ahead!" He stands there shaking in fury, but he doesn't do anything. "Look, either throw me out now, or go away and let me eat my eggs in peace," I say.

"I'll see you in the parking lot," he threatens as he stomps off.

I finish my eggs, pay the bill, tip the poor waitress and go outside. There I square off with the bellicose bagel brawler, but he backs down.

"I'll settle this my own way," he says. "You just go get in your car." He follows me and copies down my license number. Maybe he'll trace my address and I'll find a horse's head in my bed some morning, or my cat in a pot on the stove. You gotta love the guy. How many restaurant owners are this obsessed with what they do? I admire his passion, even if he does act like a putz.

I probably won't be allowed in anymore, but I still highly recommend New York Coffee Shop for great bagels with a little something on them. And if you're in the mood for a side of good old-fashioned Gotham rudeness, just bring along your notebook.