Being native.

Unlike Twila, I am a native New Yorker. Not The City, but Syracuse, which is a farm town in comparison. But I've spent a lot of time in the Big Apple.

The first time I remember being here I was 12 years old. My great-uncle Tony brought me. We did a lot of sightseeing, and he took me to a Yankees game. It was 1958, and the Yanks were playing the Cleveland Indians, who were in first place at the time. We had seats about halfway between the plate and 3rd base, no more than 30 rows up. I have no idea how Tony got those seats. The Yankees were behind in the bottom of the ninth and Mickey Mantle hit one out to tie it. In the bottom of the tenth Yogi Berra slammed one to win it. It doesn't get any better than that.

One other memory happened after my junior year in high school. My classmate Jack and I visited. We were staying with two of my aunts, who lived in Manhattan at the time. Jack and I were standing on a crowded subway train. We were both wearing red berets, which were hot at our school at the time. Jack nudged me and told me not to look, but that some big guy had made a derogatory comment to him. Naturally, being 16, I immediately looked, but quickly turned away. That guy was really big! He got off at a station in an unsavory part of the city. When the subway doors closed, Jack and I looked at the guy with, I guess, a "WTF" expression. Bad idea. He pushed his fingers between the doors and forced them open, walked inside, and swatted Jack, who fell to the floor. Strategizing quickly, I dropped to my knees to tend to Jack, while praying at the same time. Luckily, we were on the first car of the train, and my prayers were answered. The driver, an even bigger man, emerged from his cabin and asked what was going on. Our assailant fled, much to our relief.

I can't really comment on Twila's statement about understanding people who speak English with an accent. Personally, I have a hard time understanding them. When I was doing software support, I was often victimized by non-native speakers who would call and rattle on for a couple of minutes, after which all I could say was, "Huh?"

I do have a theory about Manhattan denizens. The island has a lot of people squished into a relatively small area. It's impossible to give every passerby a nod and a smile, so you just push ahead as if no-one else existed. I have found it true, like Twila, that if you happen to in some way isolate a Manhattanite, they are very happy to give you any support they can. As long as you're not wearing a red beret.