On the long ramp leading from the platform to the exit of the York Street subway station, a group of tourists are paused at the beginning of the ramp to wait for other members of their group. A bottleneck quickly forms behind them as they reorganize and then slowly start moving uphill toward the exit. They seem unaware that they are taking up nearly the entire width of the ramp. Impatient commuters from behind start trying to pass the group on the left (I’m running late, and for a split second I consider this too – but I hold back). Meanwhile, downhill traffic has also slowed, since the entire ramp is now choked with uphill traffic. At the halfway point of the ramp there’s a sudden commotion: a woman, barreling down the ramp pulling a large suitcase, heads straight into the group. ‘Move to the left!’ she shouts, and when her path doesn’t clear, she lowers her shoulder and slams into a young man who’s trying to pass the large group. The man spins around, stunned and thrown off balance. The woman continues down the ramp without breaking stride, a furious expression on her face. Members of the large group meanwhile look around, surprised and confused. Then the children start giggling and pointing toward the woman; others in the group slowly join in, and soon they’re all talking and laughing loudly – perhaps this is the kind of stereotypical New Yorker rudeness they read about in their guide books. They resume their slow shuffle up the ramp, and I fall into line behind them.