13 Sure Signs You Grew Up in New York City Slideshow

Native New Yorkers have street smarts and the strength that people from other places in the country could never even dream about. So get “on line” and bask in the glory you earned by growing up in New York, because your childhood was crazy, but it was special, and here are the 13 sure signs why.

From old men in tiny thongs to public defecation to that guy on the corner who just spews nonsense every morning, you’ve seen the most lewd, rude, and plain outrageous things on the streets. These things don’t even make you flinch, and you know the best thing to do is just keep to yourself.

When you hop on the (wonderfully short) plane ride to Europe, you don’t bother saying you’re from the U.S. or even just New York State. You know all foreigners are familiar with your hometown.

You know no breakfast beats an everything bagel with cream cheese and that real New Yorkers don’t toast their bagels. You also know the best pizza spots that aren’tLombardi’s and barely consider that doughy disk other people call pizza as a real food.

You knew what the Grand Prospect Hall was way before the ill-fated BrunchCon. It’s distinctly elegant yet affordable, and the owners will make your dreams come true.

When ordering yourself in a queue, you’ll exclaim that you’re getting “on line.” You’re just as confused at the concept of getting “in line” as non-New Yorkers are with “on line.”

“I’m from the city.”
“Oh, me too!”
“What neighborhood did you grow up in.”
“Yonkers.”
Just… no.

Walking a mile and a half is nothing to you, and you’re an expert at winding your way through crowds, tourists, and the dreaded slow walkers. Speaking of slow walkers, your relaxed walking pace is still double the speed of people not from the city.

You spent your middle school years studying rigorously for the Specialized High School Admissions Test, visiting various high schools in the city, and preparing your school applications. In comparison, applying to college was a cakewalk.

You’ve been walking everywhere, taking the subway and bus, and hailing cabs for as long as you remember. You just haven’t had the time or need to get a driver’s license, and the thought of getting behind the wheel terrifies you.

Thus, you are a master at reading on the train without holding on to any bars, you know how to best align yourself when you board so you get off right at your planned exit, and you have no qualms about eating a full meal on the train.

Getting a MetroCard for free twice a year was like free gold. And even though this special lime green or orange card is only supposed to work for three free rides a day, you know the special pleasure of it accidentally working on the weekends.

$400 for a plate at Olive Garden? Tens of thousands of tourists packed into a few blocks? No public bathrooms or food? You would never even fathom going within 15 blocks of Midtown on New Year’s Eve.