Chick Wit: A soft spot for hard city life  Posted: November 11,
2013  I've been living in the city for four years, so I've
earned the equivalent of a bachelor's degree in urban living.
I've had all the rites of passage: My apartment's been
burglarized, I've had a regular flasher, I've braved the Whole
Foods lines after work, I've gone to the beach by train, I've
watched the fireworks from a rooftop, and I've eaten pizza
standing in the street.  They say you have to toughen up to live
in a major city, and in a lot of ways, it's true. For every
extra convenience, something else is a little harder. And in
turn, we get a little harder. For instance, I knew I was a real
New Yorker when . . .  My girlfriend and I were leaving a party
late on one cold winter's night, and we were desperate to catch
a cab home - along with apparently everyone else in New York.
The streets were lined with people waiting for a taxi, and each
one seemingly on a luckier corner than ours. But the thing about
a city is, at any given moment,