You Must Be New

I feel like surviving in New York is a little like being a Girl Scout. Except I was never a Girl Scout, so what do I know. But I do remember hearing about friends' merit badges, going to different activities, developing a new skill, or selling the most glorious cookies of all time. Thin Mints are my kryptonite.

And along those lines, I think that's how you prove you're surviving in New York too. Each of your first experiences and accomplishments, your time spent learning and growing, you get a little badge that says "I did what a New Yorker would do." Eventually you're full of a million ranging from, "I inherently hate Times Square," to "Under no circumstances should I stop when someone asks me for money or tells me about Jesus like I've never heard his name before."

So after two and a half years, I have a pretty good understanding about the way of city life, and from that, can tell who has a sweet clue too. Or, in the case of summer months, when someone doesn't.

With the warm weather comes flocks of tourists. Obviously anyone wearing matching t-shirts, carrying souvenir bags from cliché landmarks, or riding around on a double decker bus does not live here.

The B&T (bridge & tunnel) people can usually be picked out of a crowd as well. Typically on a Saturday at any club... that is a hint to stay away...unless you want to find yourself in a Situation.

And - my favorite sunny imports - summer interns are currently swarming my neighborhood and gym due to my proximity to NYU. Their sweet fresh faces, their Greek t-shirts and Nike running shorts ensembles (oh college uniform, how I miss thee), and their incredible excitement equate to a big flashing sign that says I'm Not Quite a Real Person, But I'm Here To Party.

God bless them (and their strong southern majority).

I am fairly confident if I were faced with a line-up of 10 people and asked to choose who were summer interns, I'd get at least 90% correct. It's now my new favorite morning commute game (slightly edging out "Who is the hottest guy in my subway car?" Only slightly though.

But as Elle pointed out on DYFU last week, male summer interns - cougar bait compared to my almost quarter century oldness - should be left alone.  (Last summer The BFF and I were asked by two guys what dorm we were staying at for the summer. FML.)

As adorable as I find their sweet, unjaded pre-FJO-ness, I'm not in the mood to play babysitter this summer.

Although, I'm clearly not strictly adhering to any of the rules I've put in place for myself lately (after my iced-coffee rant I went on a binge! I suck!), so we'll see how I feel come August. Maybe there's a badge I can earn?