It wasn’t until I came to live in Columbia Maryland that I overheard the one of most compassionate explanation for New Yorkerism; that irritating and seemly neurotic condition displayed by New York City (and vicinity) expatriates. I was in a bar in conversation with friends-all of whom from various parts of the world-and said all I was going to say on some matter concerning local mindsets, laws, food, barroom etiquette or the like. Being an expat New Yorker, such things are important to me and I am quick to say how just plain fucked up they are here and how New York factors such quality-of-life variables properly. I was frustrated and when you’re frustrated beat up on those piddly two dollar things you can’t do anything about and irritate the hell out of you.
Peter, to whom I was venting, got understandably annoyed and invited me to “go back” and then mumbled to no one in particular “What is with these fucking New Yorkers?” Earl, a quiet and scholarly old gent and long time friend of Peter’s leaned over explained in a kind of academic tone that “New Yorkers are among the most provincial people in the world. They are very much like Londoners, Parisians, Berliners, Muscovites and Neapolitans in this regard.”
Making eye contact with Peter Earl continued, “They are never truly at home any place other than their city and the rest of their country can’t stand them”
Earl continued with some more social anthropology on how "this is misinterpreted as arrogant snobbery..." et cetera but I was thinking “Wow. An objective explanation”
With this theory of New Yorkers as people who often feel like foreigners in what, after all, is supposed to be their country as well, in mind I proffer some entries from a Web Forum in the New York Times (go figure) website. The thread is YOU KNOW YOU'RE A NEW YORKER WHEN...
You may notice some NYers proffer their mea culpa in some entries – believe it or not we’re pretty good at that kind of stuff. If you’re predisposed to disliking us this will certainly not change your mind but you may be amused and be reminded how glad you are that you don’t live in NYC. Many thanks to the NYT and the people who made these wonderful comments.
YOU KNOW YOU’RE A NEW YORKER WHEN…
you are serenaded at the subway entrance by two teenage girls playing the classical violin. They are so good, their open violin cases are overflowing with dollar bills.
When you see conflict on the street between strangers you do one of two things only: enjoy the show, or mind your business. Intervention NEVER crosses your mind!
You vacation anywhere else (The Midwest, south, west) and are totally amazed at the courtesy/politeness of strangers and at the same time equally annoyed at how long it actually takes for them to say, "Heeeelllllooooo, Hoooowwww aaaaaaaarrrre yaaaaaalllll doooooing tooooodaaaaaaay?".
You argue how to pronounce LIRR, even though you never use it.
you consider White Plains and Yonkers to be "Upstate."
You are not shocked by the price of a $15 martini, but think that it is highway robbery to pay $6 to go through the tunnel to get back into your city.
you're afraid to move into a suburban house, because you know there won't be a 'super' around to fix things if something goes wrong.
You've asked bums for change.
Staten Island is nothing more than a dump and a mall
Since the sprinklers in the park never seem to come on until it's raining, you resort to unscrewing the cap from the fire hydrant every year.
When you were a child, you waved at firefighters, just because.
There are four pizzerias and three churches within five blocks of your house
when you get on the train below 42nd street and purposely stand in front of a well dressed white person sitting down because you know they won't be going passed 86th street!! Et voila, you'll be sitting down for the rest of the subway ride into the Bronx!
When you call the Staten Island Ferry your free date cruise ship
When you stop to get lemon ice from a street vendor on 42nd Street and don't care if 250 pedestrians have to walk around you...all showing their annoyance.
you know that Queens and Long Island are NOT the same thing!
when you and your brothers could walk to the '60s World's Fair in Flushing Meadow Park any time you wanted to.
when a kid could have a lot of fun at the Adventurer's Inn.
when you're proudly part of a high school graduating class of 1,264 kids...and when you don't learn until much, much later that people outside of NYC would think that was unusually large.
You're visiting a friend in Virginia and he's complaining about his mortgage payment on a two story colonial home on 3/4 acre of property and you silently take note that it's nearly as much as you pay for renting a modest one bedroom apartment in Manhattan.
You know you're a New Yorker when you'd rather not sit down in a subway car on a HOT summer day, because that would put you directly in the line of fire person's armpit hanging on to the hand rest directly above you.
An obviously mentally-disturbed person sits down next you on the subway, gesturing in a threatening manner and uttering phrases with the words "kill" in them, and you have to think whether or not you want to give up the seat. After realizing it's rush hour, you decide to keep the seat.
you know you're a New Yorker when you're waiting for the subway and you're disappointed that there's no guitarist, drummer, comedian, clown, opera singer, sax player or just-plain-crazy person to help pass the time.
When you eat your bagels with a "schmeer"...(sp?)
you get off an airplane in, say, Colorado, rent a car, and the first thing you do out of the lot is check the horn, completely scandalizing everyone in earshot.
When you sit through movie credits to find out who the foley artists were.
when you can get whatever you want at any time of night with little trouble.
You're in Central Park waiting for your dog to finish pooping, and you look up and realize that people all over the world dream of someday seeing the place where you walk your dog.
And you still call Hell's Kitchen, Hell's Kitchen and are APPALLED at it's being called Clinton (even though this was one of its names as well, but that was before our time).
And you cried when the Westside Highway was dismantled almost entirely and West Street was for black drag queens, not roller-blading white yuppies paying $3000 for a studio and trying to claim they're an artist to get on the waiting list for Westbeth.
You know that all other cities are actually towns...
After the shock of the terror attacks waned, you realize you miss the violinist who played "Ave Maria" nonstop at the WTC/Chambers street station...
You mock those who wear I Love NY t-shirts because, quite naturally, they're not New Yorkers...
College freshmen from New York do not have driver's licenses, and they're shocked that all their non-NY friends do...
You're counting the days when you can return home from college and laugh at tourists again...
You know that there are no eggs in an egg cream. You know that there is no Pie in paisano. You know that Shuyster and Goniff is the name of a law firm. You know that Wednesday is Prince spagetti day. You know that there is no jelly in a jelly apple. You know that Pickles do come in a barrel. You played 70 innings of stickball and you never kept score You played "stoopball" as a kid. Your best friends were Jewish, Italian, Irish and they all lived on your block. You know what "Block" means.
When you don't have anything else to say about a topic of discussion, you throw up your hands and say, "Whadda ya gonna do?"
You have a cup of coffee (only) delivered to you from the local deli...and they'll gladly do it.
You go away to school in another city (5th largest in the country) and you insult it by calling it "a cute little city", bitching about the asinine public transportation system, moaning the dearth of post- midnight options. You confuse everyone when you refer to "the City" and assume that they mean NY too. You think that everyone understands the boroughs. You grew up using Yiddish, Italian, and Spanish phrases even though you're Irish Catholic. You get your roommates hooked on real bagels that you bring back from home. You walk without fear not because you're naive but because you know exactly what you're doing. You don't cringe at panhandlers anymore. You cross streets between the traffic with perfect timing. People are fascinated and/or repelled by how fast you walk, how fast you talk, how much you curse, and how funny your accent is. You know you walk and talk at the right pace, you don't notice that you curse, and you don't have an accent - they do!
(Amen Bro – Just what I felt the day I left home –dbo’c)
You laugh hysterically when tourists come up to you (an Asian-American) on Canal St. and say "Ni hao!" REALLY loudly and smile...until you inform them in perfect English that you're Korean, but thanks for trying. They ask for directions to Mott St. (really loudly, really slowly), and you point the wrong way, just for fun. As you start to walk away, you watch as they marvel at the "pretty little buddha statues" on the folding tables that you can find anywhere on Canal, as the old man selling them says "Five dollah...for you, three dollah" As the tourist walks away triumphantly, you wonder how you could possibly live anywhere else.
You’re talking to a friend from another part of the country, and you're shocked that they hunt, fish, or actually had a football team at their high school.
You curse at the drivers when walking and curse at the walkers when driving.
You moved to London, meet another New Yorker and begin an argument on where you can get the best Chinese in Chinatown. Its still Wo Hop's Lucky Number 7- downstairs!
You know you are a New Yorker when you can eat a salty pretzel, talk on your cell phone to your friend all while drinking your Sta** Bu**s coffee and all the while ignoring the nice Chinese man who is trying to give you an unsolicited massage.
you know you’re a new Yorker when, the smell of piss and puke doesn’t deter you from 330am falafel.
your friend frank has seen people having sex on the street more than once.
you walk everywhere, miss it when you don’t, and always start sentences with, "in new york..."
you claim to be a new yorker when you’re really just a spoiled white college kid.
you dont balk at the idea of paying 70 dollars for levis, yes, levis
if the Chinese food isn’t greasy enough, you think twice about going next time (10th street)
you party with international DJs, lose their records, and are only 18 when it all happens...
you were cooler at 18 than you are now, and you’re too cynical now to give a damn about being cool
your friend lisa exists solely on food bought from delis and weird specialty shops such as cosi's xandos, and dojos - whose names make no sense
your friend zach goes to work at 4am, a little wasted, just to spin
you watched the towers come down outside your window, lived without need of tv, and prayed with the tibetans in union square
you joke with your friends about the thrax
paying 7 dollars for cigarettes will eventually seem reasonable.
you are completely and utterly shocked when someone doesn't have a cell phone
when you go into someone's apartment and start wondering what rent is and mentally assigning a price based on size, bathroom, etc. –doorman, view, walkup?
when, ATP 3k DM WU PREWAR makes sense
You think nothing of dating someone who lives a two hour, three transfer subway ride away
You know you are a New Yorker when you visit a European country and you complain that everybody looks alike!!!