Three months ago, I moved to New York City. Two months and 29 days ago, I got in my first argument with a New Yorker. I’m told that may be a record. Now, to be fair, it was my fault—I had had the audacity to cross when he was at a stop sign, unaware of the New York tradition that the right-of-way goes to whoever the fuck’s driving the 4,000-pound death machine.
However, because I was so fresh-faced in the city that never sleeps (or, apparently, admits they’re wrong), I was basically bulldozed and spent the next two showers imagining all the ways I could have schooled that asshole in the art of skilled debate. I’ve picked up some tricks since then, so next time you get caught in an argument with these guys, here’s what you do.