Ode to the New Yorker

Have I ever mentioned how much I love New Yorkers?

They're a breed unto their own: no-nonsense, semi-crazy, ambitious S.o.B.s who will leave you alone as long as you don't mess with them.

I can't describe what it is about New Yorkers that I love so much. Maybe it's the fluidity with which they move down the street, dodging cars and people to get from place to place with as much efficiency as possible. Maybe it's because they don't put up with crap. People here will tell you what they think to your face, and you don't have to wonder whether Ms. Cashier is having a good day or not, because her facial expression will say it all. But most of all, I think it comes down to the ultimate harmony that I hear all around - good and bad coming together to create a beautiful, chaotic symphony.

I take it as such a compliment when someone tells me that I'm a "true" New Yorker. My disdain for Times Square, my knack for finding subway shortcuts, and for pulling off the austerity that most west-coast people lack - it all makes me feel like I belong here. And when I walk down the street and marvel at all of my urban brothers and sisters, I swell with pride to know that I am one of them.

I'm a New Yorker.