At first it was just having a smoke after dinner in the city café, and when they would try to throw him out he’d laugh and stick the bill in his French roast before running out. Then it was screaming that he wanted to order trans fats, jumping the turnstiles, taking detailed photos of city bridges, blocking the box, cracking open the closest fire hydrant on the first hot day, stealing Internet service, offering to sell herbal cigarettes to a 16-year-old, refusing to license the Doberman, weaseling more than two beers out of Yankee Stadium. Nothing was ever illicit enough.