We're a special breed, us Long Islanders. There is some intangible factor each of us carries within ourselves that forever marks us as being from Long Island. Maybe it's the attitude. Maybe it's the loudness. Maybe it's the incessant mentioning of our pizza and bagels. Whatever the reason, when we venture off of our safe little island, people can spot us from a mile away. It's a blessing and a curse.

He's walking fast

Like super fast, like I have a train to catch get the f*** out of my way fast. And he looks at the ground as he's walking. No eye contact. It wastes time.

She has an iced coffee in her hand

In August... and in January, too. All year long, and always Dunkin' Donuts.

He's blasting rap from his Beats headphones

With some Billy Joel thrown in for good measure.

Her hair is straightened

We cannot leave the house unless every strand is as straight as an arrow.

He's holding a lacrosse stick

Lax is life, bro.

She's asking to go to the beach

Once we leave the island, we are literally like fish out of water.

He's eating a slice of pizza

Folded in half and with one had. Like it's supposed to be eaten.

She's wearing Uggs

One of her seven pairs.

He has road rage

"Learn to f***ing drive you piece of s***!" he screams at the grandma in the Buick in front of him.

She had a Sweet 16 bigger than your mom's wedding

And there was so much drama over who she picked to be in her court.

He's Italian

His name is probably Tony and his mom makes the best meatballs.

She's super hard to understand sometimes

What exactly is a "dawg"?

He drinks from a paper bag on the LIRR

Because why pay $15 for a drink in the city when a Four Loco is $3?

When she wakes up hungover all she wants is a BEC

There is no better cure, it's a scientific fact.

She talks about how amazing Long Island is so much you want to slap her in the face

You really can't understand unless you're a Long Islander. Your loss.