The year was 1992...
...and I'm in the passenger seat, while my friend is driving his Mercury Lynx down 7th Avenue, through the Village, past St. Vincent's. It's Friday night, in the summertime, and the other motorists are in their extra-jumpy, doubly impatient mood. Every time we'd stop at a red light, the horns would start honking a NANOSECOND after the lights turned green. My friend, knowing little or nothing of Manhattan driving etiquette, would have a fit every time those horns would honk. "What the hell are they honking at?"
The voice from a second friend in the back seat muttered, "they want you to GO, stupid!"