It sounded like a piece of theater improv. And the performer was directly in front of me. I was sitting in the tram, enjoying the street views from my window seat. The man was standing in the connecting section, leaning on a pole and looking straight at me.  He was old. Hold on, maybe he was my age or even a bit older.  To resume: He was an old white guy wearing a backpack, sounding cankerous and entitled. He had something to say and I wasn’t thinking he was part of a pickpocket gang. But you never know.  “Let it ring,” he said, “I have plenty of time.” I could hear the sound of a telephone ringing. It sounded like it was coming from…