How I Became an Urban Monster in Just 10 Minutes

The car ahead of me on the one-way Brooklyn street pulled up to the curb. The driver hopped out, leaving his door open, and strode across the crowded sidewalk into the lunch counter on the corner of Fulton. He disappeared inside.

I tried to edge my Honda Zipcar around his parked vehicle so that I could continue on my way, but another car, illegally parked at the opposite curb, made the passage so narrow that I wasn’t sure I could make it. I inched forward, calculating my odds. Would I scrape the sides of one or both vehicles? Tear off a mirror? Behind me, I could see the traffic backing up. My heart rate escalated steadily. My palms were sweating. There was no sign of the man who had gone in to grab a hot dog, or whatever. His passenger looked like she was engrossed in her phone.