I've been trying to figure out why the New Yorkers I ran into during my recent trip to Manhattan were so much more polite than the Los Angelenos I live among.
I think part of the explanation is that New Yorkers only have the relatively thin nap of their wool coats to act as a protective ego-sphere between them and their fellow citizens, while Los Angelenos have 6,000 odd pounds of SUV wrapped around their Pilates-pumped posteriors—a cuddly crib of chrome that coddles them into a conscience-comatose state.
Floor mats are extra, but sense of entitlement comes standard.
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