the conversion.

People have differing opinions on what makes a person a New Yorker. Some say it's attitude, some say it's length of residency. By some standards, I'm there, and by others I'm not. But regardless, today I had a frightening New Yorker realization.

What was it that tipped me off? Was it the swift and agile grace I exercised when bolting for the subway as the doors were closing, knowing exactly how much time I had and when to turn sideways to slide in at the last second?

Was it the way I pointed without hesitation (and without slowing down) when a tourist on the street asked me which direction 32nd Street was?

Maybe it was how I didn't feel the slightest bit bad about plowing into and walking away from some idiot woman who stopped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, obstructing the flow of foot traffic so she could dig for her phone?

The culmination of all these things brought me to my moment. On my way to a 3-hour class after working a 9+hour day, I popped in my earphones to drown out the city while I jammed to various mp3s on the subway, which I rode steadily and around corners without the need to hold on. When I got off the train I checked my voicemail, and dialed a return call to my aunt. I was still on the phone with her, with one musical earphone still blasting Black Eyed Peas in the other ear, when I looked up through my sunglasses and ordered my Grande Java Chip Frappacino No Cream from the woman at Starbucks.

Fucking Starbucks.

But...at least I don't have an iPod.