you know you're from new york city if..
You're 35 years old and don't have a driver's license.
You ride in a subway car with no air conditioning just because there are seats available.
You and the other three passengers look at each other and know you have pure grit.
You take the train home and you know exactly where on the platform the doors will open that will leave you right in front of the exit stairway.
You know what "regular" coffee is
It's not Manhattan; it's the "city".
You get upset that a cabbie is obeying all the rules of the road.
You're willing to take in strange people as roommates simply to help pay the rent.
There is no north and south. It's "uptown" or "downtown."
If you're really from New York you have absolutely no concept of where north and south are....and east or west is "Crosstown."
You cross the street anywhere but on the corners and you yell at cars for not respecting the fact.
You move 8,000 miles away, spend 10 years learning the local language and people still know you're from Brooklyn the minute you open your mouth. You return after 10 years and the first foods you want are a "real" pizza and "real" bagel.
A 500 square foot apartment is large.
Your co-worker commutes 45 minutes by train to a 2,000 square foot house in the suburbs that was the same price as that same 500 square foot apartment of yours that takes only 35 minutes to get to and you think he's a sucker.
You know the differences between all the different ray's pizzas. -you are not under the mistaken impression that any human being would be able to actually understand a p.a. announcement on the subway.
You know who Dr. X is.
You have at least 50 menus in your apartment, two thirds of which you have neither ordered from nor even heard of.
You wouldn't bother ordering pizza in any other city.
You get ready to order dinner every night and must choose from the major food groups: Chinese, Italian, Mexican or Indian.
You know how to fold the New York times in half, vertically, so that you can read it on the subway or bus without knocking off other passenger's hats.
You don't even notice the nice lady walking down the road having a perfectly normal conversation with her self.
You pay "only" $230 a month to park your car.
You can nap on the subway and never miss your stop.
You look forward to riding the subway to read the next installment of "Marisol and Julio".
The deli guy gives you a straw with any beverage you buy, even if it is beer.
You may air heartfelt gripes and complaints about your city, but heaven help any visitors who dis' your city.
That's new york, baby! You gotta love it.
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