My friends and family note that I walk like a New Yorker, yet there are still people in New York who walk so unsufferably slow. I get really excited when I find someone who walks my pace, it’s like finding a person on the highway you can drive behind without switching lanes. Then this one morning there was a person who walked at my pace, but since they smoked that just meant that if I stayed behind them I’d be getting smoke in my face the entire time. I can’t remember if I sped up to get passed them or just endured it until I got to the subway.


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