What constitutes a “New Yorker” these days is open to debate. Old timers hate on hipsters who hate on newer, more outlandish hipsters. But no matter which walk of New York life you come from, there are a few things we share in common, namely the things we say. Like these...
“It’s the Brooklyn of the Midwest.”
Or the Brooklyn of San Francisco. Or the Brooklyn of Dubai. New Yorkers refer to any place where they serve craft beer, wear plaid, and ride bikes as the next Brooklyn.
“Thanks, MTA.”
Our version of “Thanks, Obama.” We basically blame everything we possibly can on the MTA -- we’re late because we left too late? Totally the MTA’s fault. We forgot to bring a birthday gift? It was the MTA! We missed a rent payment by a few days? Goddamnit, those transit bastards are at it again!
“Ooohh...it’s in Manhattan? I don’t know if I’ll make it.”
Says anyone who lives in an outer borough.
“Ooohh... it’s in Queens? I don’t know if I’ll make it.”
Says anyone who lives in Manhattan or Brooklyn.
“That’s not REAL Brooklyn.”
To anything in reference to anything gentrified in any area of Brooklyn ever.
“That yoga studio used to be a dive bar.”
“And that other yoga studio used to be where I bought crack in the ‘80s. God, I miss the ‘80s.”
“I don’t eat at John’s (Junior’s [Katz’s {any restaurant in NYC that has ever been famous or on TV ever}]).”
“Instead I eat at this place under a bodega under the Williamsburg bridge that you’ve never even heard of where all the co*cktails are made with bacon mezcal.”
“Let me get a... ”
A perfectly polite way to order anything.
“Guess how much she pays.”
“$3,000 per month for a 300sqft apartment... I know, it’s huge!”
“f*cking hipsters.”
Say all the Bushwick/Crown Heights/Bed-Stuy hipsters about all the Williamsburg hipsters.
“I remember when this was all hookers. f*cking Giuliani.”
To anything in reference to the area between Times Square and the West Side Highway.
“Take the bridge, don’t take the tunnel.”
You are NOT tacking on another $8 to my fare, sir.
“Yeah, let’s go out, but nowhere too expensive, OK? I have like $12 in my checking account.”
Cut to four hours later when you’ve spent like a sheikh on dinner, drinks, and an Uber home.
“Ugh, I love San Francisco! I could totally live there.”
Nope.
“I’ve been to that bar once. It was cash only.”
And you will never go again.
“Ugh, I hate LA.”
Quickly followed by...
“I feel like I could live in LA.”
Nope.
“I want a dog, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”
The fact that you have to wake up at 6am every day to walk it when bars close at 4am has little to nothing to do with it...
“Swipe me?”
When you know your Metrocard reads $2.43, and the machine isn’t accepting bills, coins, or credit cards at this time.
“The neighborhood is changing.”
Congrats, you got your first yoga studio.
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Meagan Drillinger is a contributing writer for Thrillist and can't get through the day without saying any of these things.
