I don’t know what it means to be a New Yorker anymore. I guess if you work for a giant corporation and you’ve lived here for more than six weeks, you’re a New Yorker now. I think I used to know what it meant to be a New Yorker. I guess if you don’t eat at Cosi sandwich shop you’re a real New Yorker. If you don’t go to Hopstop.com to find your way around the city, you’re a real New Yorker. If you make too much noise on the sidewalk at night and bother people living in overpriced apartments, you’re a real New Yorker. If you get mugged, and then immediately go eat a slice with the money hidden in your sock that they did not steal from you, you’re a real New Yorker. If you cross the street wherever and whenever you want, you’re a New Yorker. And if you walk fast, you’re a New Yorker. Nobody walks fast in this city anymore. Everyone walks slow, and then goes to Equinox.