The old saw is that you're not a New Yorker until you've lived in the city for ten years. My anniversary passed last November 1st, while I was on a train from Naples to Venice.
The most obvious change is my impatience with the slow moving people on the subway platforms in the morning. Jesus, why can't some people move? Thank God I don't drive.
But last week I received the strongest symbol of my new persona. I had an anxiety dream about not being able to get a cab when I needed one.
It's official. I am now a New Yorker.