Lie to a tourist when they ask you for directions and you don’t know the answer.
Buy an umbrella from Duane Reade for the 27th time this winter, and watch it break instantly.
Randomly run into someone you know through six degrees of separation, immediately wish you hadn’t.
Make small talk about what will happen when/if the L train shuts down.
Consider $16 a perfectly fair price to pay for a cocktail consisting of vodka, ice, soda, and mint.
Shame cities whose bars close at 2am.
Find yourself making baldly obvious excuses not to leave the city ("Come out to the Hamptons with us!" "I... have to do laundry, go ahead.")
Have a rat run over your foot, and think (almost) nothing of it.
Look for spaces to articulate, as frequently and unabashedly as possible, what it means to be a New Yorker. Find that it’s near impossible, and continue to try anyway.