A true Haywardian knows there’s no need to buy a crack pipe. A piece of foil and a straw serve perfectly well to smoke meth.
A true Haywardian knows that the best deals in town can be found in dumpsters; and that “Leave your unwanted stuff in front of your house for pickup day.” is waaaay better than Christmas.
A true Haywardian instinctively knows that his car’s engine noise is sweet music to the ears of everyone within audible distance (a couple miles).
I’m so glad I left the east bay. 
“all y’all” is TWO words? Hmmm… I’ll have to think about that one.
A true Austinite knows why it’s called ‘MoPac’. And no, it doesn’t loop anything either.
A true Austinite remembers when it was actually possible to go see the Zilker Christmas lights without it being a six hour traumatic ordeal.
In line with the rest:
A true Torontonian will always call it “Skydome” or simply “The Dome,” and will never deign to acknowledge it as “The Rogers Center.”
A true Torontonian knows that “downtown” refers to the several dozen square kilometers surrounding The Eaton Center (which any true Torontonian will simply call “Eaton’s Center”) – even if you’re living in Oakville, Mississauga, Brampton, Woodbridge, Vaughan, Richmond Hill, Scarborough, or Markham.
A true Torontonian has never referred to it as the “megacity” after the amalgamation.
No true Torontonian has ever called it “Tee-Dot” without being ironic or sad.
A true Torontonian knows where Cabbagetown is.
A true Torontonian knows what Jarvis St. is all about. Likewise, what the intersection of Church & Jarvis is known for.
A true Torontonian can’t even look at former mayor Mel Lastman without – at least silently – going “Noooooooooobody!” and making the OK sign with the left hand. None of this makes anyone want to shop at Bad Boy, however.
Is that some kind of Buddhist riddle? I mean, I do this myself here in Sydney, but to say people in NYC go to the end of the train because people in NYC don’t go to the end of the train? Maybe I’m missing something…
You are a true Sydneysider if:
A true Buffalonian won’t get wings from the Anchor Bar, though.
A true Buffalonian thinks anyplace east of Transit Road is the boonies. “There be Dragyns here!” is the prevailing attitude.
A true Buffalonian doesn’t use foo-foo neighborhood names. Instead, they use street intersections. “North Park? What are you talking about? I live in Hertel-Colvin!”
A true Buffalonian has a phone number that begins with “8”. 6’s are for traitors.
A true Buffalonian goes to church on Saturday.
A true Buffalonian’s reaction to every new chain store, restaurant or retail concept - “Thee-yat’ll never work hee-yur. It’s too fee-yancy for Buffalo! They’ll be closed in a few months.” Also, a true Buffalonian would never shop at a “lifestyle center”, which is why it’s perhaps the only city in the US not to have one. Instead, they prefer “plee-yahzas” that have not been updated since the 1960s.
A true Buffalonian has not changed the order of stations on their car stereo buttons since the mid-1980s.
A true Buffalonian thinks pizza, and most Italian food in general, sucks everywhere but Buffalo. From Wikipedia: “In Buffalo, New York, pizza is made with a thicker, doughier crust than traditional New York style pizza, with a slightly thicker and sweeter sauce, mozzarella cheese and (usually) pepperoni cooked until it is burned and crispy on the edges.”
A true Buffalonian doesn’t eat at a restaurant with only one name. They also won’t eat at anyplace that’s part of a national chain, or anyplace that opened only in the past 10 years.
A true Buffalonian lives in a house that looks like this. With vinyl siding.
A true Buffalonian has a surname that either ends in a vowel, beings with “O’”, or is utterly unpronouncable.
A true Buffalonian will have at least one “Aunt Joanne” (prounounced “Ee-yant Jo-eee-yan”) if not several.
A true Austinite thought that having a Home Depot in town was pretty cool, but now that we have 12, is starting to get a little pissed.
You’re a true Orlandite if:
– You still call it the Beeline (what’s this “Beachline” you speak of?)
– You know the best clubs are downtown, and know what they were all called 5 years ago, but don’t know if any are still open.
– You love Disney, but only go to the theme parks when company’s in town (and that’s quite a bit if you own a home.)
– You just move out into the middle of traffic from a gas station, knowing people will stop (which they do 95% of the time…that other pesky 5%)
Denver -
You’ve not been skiing more than a half-dozen times in your life.
You appreciate RTD because it keeps some of the transplanted Easterners off the road.
You’ve taken your SUV off the pavement… but you’ve also taken a Citation or Corolla offroad.
You give directions using West, North, etc. instead of right and left.
Visiting a place with mountains to the East is seriously confusing.
You have trouble at sea level because of all the air.
Humidity above 25% is considered “muggy”.
Rain for more than two days brings out the Seattle jokes.
You’ve never been to Aspen.
You think “South Park” is a place to stop for gas on your way to Buena Vista.
You know how to pronounce “Buena Vista”.
You chuckle at people who mispronounce “Saguache”.
A true Cincinnattian says “please?” when they aren’t sure what was said.
And knows the old line about “all the churches on Queen Street and all the queens on Church Street.”
Oh, this is so true. 
Only three? Must not have been rush hour. 
You’re a true Bostonian if you
…can identify the location of 25 (or more) Dunkin’ Donuts off the top of your head
…your favorite Italian restaurant is owned and operated by actual Italian people
…remember the Blizzard of '78 as the worst sto-ahm EV-AH
…know the Irish Mob is real, while the Italian Mob is mostly Hollywood fiction
…are thankful the Sox won it in '02, but aren’t holding your breath for another one
…will be surprised if the Pats don’t win it this year
…remember when Hockey was way bettah than Football
…know that way a roast beef sandwich should be served is on a butter-grilled onion roll with bar-b-que sauce, american cheese, and mayonaise. But not from Kelly’s.
…hope your kids don’t hang out at Revere Beach like you did (what a shithole)
…have actually uttered the phrase wicked pissah
…when speaking English, pronounce it “muntreal,” not “mawntreal.”
You’re a true Californian if you can be eating lunch with an out-of-state friend when an earthquake hits and tell them “That was only a 2.6er. Might be a small aftershock though.” Then go back to your hamburger.
Fun to watch the look in their eyes!
We have to thank Herb Caen for the “Don’t call it Frisco”. He was a beloved columnist for the SF Chronicle for many years.
As an earlier poster said, “The City” is what you call it from anywhere in the east bay.
God I miss that place!
Jake, raised in the east bay.
In case you missed it: call it San Fran, SF, or The City. But NEVER call it Frisco.
(You’ve been warned upon pain of having your Doper card confiscated.)
A true San Franciscan also
… never eats Rice-A-Roni.
… knows that the best Chinese restaurants aren’t really in Chinatown.
… knows that the best gelato outside of Little Italy is Marco Polo’s on Taravel Street.
… never buys stuff at a hotel gift shop when there’s a Walgreens with the same stuff right around the corner.
… knows which streets have synchonized lights to maximize traffic flow.
… knows how to say hello and thank you in at least two (if not three) different languages. (I’ll never forget the African American bus driver saying “Ni hao” to everyone when driving the 1 California.)
I thought I read somewhere a few years ago that a few San Franciscans had taken to using the “Frisco” moniker just as a way to be defiant, or annoying. But I take it that’s wrong?
In the “Frisco” vein, nobody from San Antonio evers refers to the city as “San Antone.” They HATE that.
A true Orlandoan (Orlandite?) knows that Highway 50 = Colonial Drive and 436 = Semoran Blvd.
A true Orlandoan gets cold when the high is only 70 degrees.
A true Orlandoan knows how to play the drinking game, “Hunker Down.”
A true Orlandoan probably hasn’t visited the theme parks in about 10 years.
A true Orlandoan hates I-4 with a passion, especially around 5pm in the afternoon.
A true Orlandoan knows what Rosie O’Grady’s is, and misses it terribly.
Likewise in Boston, nobody calls it Beantown. The Hub maybe, but never Beantown.
Ah, it does this heart good to see the old accent of the Maritimes, though I’m certain it makes little sense to those who’ve not heard it before, I can hear it clearly right 'ere. taps chest 
I dearly miss the familiar mutt-mix of accents all mashed into one new and interesting one: French, Irish, and whatever else you can throw in there. Differs from province to province (and I’ll not call ye a Newfie, I know a Caper when I hear one!) but they have similar elements.
And here I am in Seattle, with an umbrella. B’y, I’d like to see home again soon.
