• You're 35 years old and don't have a driver's license.
• You ride in a subway car with no air conditioning just because there are seats available.
• You take the train home and you know exactly where on the platform the doors will open that will leave you right in front of the exit stairway.
• You know what a "regular" coffee is.
• It's not Manhattan...... It's the "city".
• There is no north and south. It's "uptown" or "downtown." If you're really from New York you have absolutely no concept of where north and south are.... And east or west is "crosstown."
• You cross the street anywhere but on the corners and you yell at cars for not respecting your right to do it.
• You move 3,000 miles away, spend 10 years learning the local language and people still know you're from Brooklyn the minute you open your mouth.
• You return after 10 years and the first foods you want are a "real" pizza and a "real" bagel.
• A 500 square foot apartment is large.
• You know the differences between all the different Ray's pizzas.
• You are not under the mistaken impression that any human being would be able to actually understand a p.a. Announcement on the subway.
• You wouldn't bother ordering pizza in any other city.
• You get ready to order dinner every night and must choose from the major food groups which are: Chinese, Italian, Mexican or Indian.
• You're not the least bit interested in going to Times Square on New Year's eve.
• Your internal clock is permanently set to know when alternate side of the street parking regulations are in effect.
• Someone bumps into you, and you check for your wallet.
• You don't even notice the lady walking down the road having a perfectly normal conversation with herself.
• You pay "only" $230 a month to park your car.
• The presidential visit is a major traffic jam, not an honor.
• You can nap on the subway and never miss your stop.
• The deli guy gives you a straw with any beverage you buy, even if it's a beer.

Your Clothes:

• 1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
• 2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
• 3rd baby: Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.

Preparing for the Birth:

• 1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
• 2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
• 3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.

The Layette:

• 1st baby: You pre-wash newborn's clothes, color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
• 2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
• 3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?

Worries:

• 1st baby: At the first sign of distress--a whimper, a frown--you pick up the baby.
• 2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
• 3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.

Pacifier:

• 1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it.
• 2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle.
• 3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.

Diapering:

• 1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it or not.
• 2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
• 3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.

Activities:

• 1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swing, and Baby Story Hour.
• 2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
• 3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.

Going Out:

• 1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
• 2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
• 3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.

At Home:

• 1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
• 2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
• 3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.

Swallowing Coins:

• 1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
• 2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
• 3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!!

She was stretched full-out on the back seat and I wanted to impress upon her that she must remain there. I walked to the curb backward, pointing my finger at the car and saying emphatically, "Now you stay. Do you hear me?"

"Stay! Stay!" The driver of a nearby car, a pretty blonde young lady, gave me a strange look and said, "Why don't you just put it in Park?"

Brian Shul, Retired SR-71 Pilot via Plane and Pilot Magazine As a former SR-71 pilot, and a professional keynote speaker, the question I'm most often asked is "How fast would that SR-71 fly?" I can be assured of hearing that question several times at any event I attend.

It's an interesting question, given the aircraft's proclivity for speed, but there really isn't one number to give, as the jet would always give you a little more speed if you wanted it to. It was common to see 35 miles a minute. Because we flew a programmed Mach number on most missions, and never wanted to harm the plane in any way, We never let it run out to any limits of temperature or speed. Thus, each SR-71 pilot had his own individual "high" speed that he saw at some point on some mission. I saw mine over Libya when Khadafy fired two missiles my way, and max power was in order. Let's just say that the plane truly loved speed and effortlessly took us to Mach numbers we hadn't previously seen.

So it was with great surprise, when at the end of one of my presentations, someone asked, "what was the slowest you ever flew the Blackbird?" This was a first. After giving it some thought, I was reminded of a story that I had never shared before, and relayed the following.

I was flying the SR-71 out of RAF Mildenhall, England , with my back-seater, Walt Watson; we were returning from a mission over Europe and the Iron Curtain when we received a radio transmission from home base. As we scooted across Denmark in three minutes, we learned that a small RAF base in the English countryside had requested an SR-71 fly-past.

The air cadet commander there was a former Blackbird pilot, and thought it would be a motivating moment for the young lads to see the mighty SR-71 perform a low approach. No problem, we were happy to do it.

After a quick aerial refueling over the North Sea, we proceeded to find the small airfield.

Walter had a myriad of sophisticated navigation equipment in the back seat, and began to vector me toward the field.

Descending to subsonic speeds, we found ourselves over a densely wooded area in a slight haze. Like most former WWII British airfields, the one we were looking for had a small tower and little surrounding infrastructure. Walter told me we were close and that I should be able to see the field, but I saw nothing.

Nothing but trees as far as I could see in the haze. We got a little lower, and I pulled the throttles back from 325 knots we were at. With the gear up, anything under 275 was just uncomfortable. Walt said we were practically over the field-yet; there was nothing in my windscreen. I banked the jet and started a gentle circling maneuver in hopes of picking up anything that looked like a field.

Meanwhile, below, the cadet commander had taken the cadets up on the catwalk of the tower in order to get a prime view of the fly-past. It was a quiet, still day with no wind and partial gray overcast.

Walter continued to give me indications that the field should be below us but in the overcast and haze, I couldn't see it. The longer we continued to peer out the window and circle, the slower we got. With our power back, the awaiting cadets heard nothing. I must have had good instructors in my flying career, as something told me I better cross-check the gauges. As I noticed the airspeed indicator slide below 160 knots, my heart stopped and my adrenalin-filled left hand pushed two throttles full forward. At this point we weren't really flying, but were falling in a slight bank. Just at the moment that both afterburners lit with a thunderous roar of flame (and what a joyous feeling that was) the aircraft fell into full view of the shocked observers on the tower. Shattering the still quiet of that morning, they now had 107 feet of fire-breathing titanium in their face as the plane leveled and accelerated, in full burner, on the tower side of the infield, closer than expected, maintaining what could only be described as some sort of ultimate knife-edge pass.

Quickly reaching the field boundary, we proceeded back to Mildenhall without incident. We didn't say a word for those next 14 minutes.

After landing, our commander greeted us, and we were both certain he was reaching for our wings. Instead, he heartily shook our hands and said the commander had told him it was the greatest SR-71 fly-past he had ever seen, especially how we had surprised them with such a precise maneuver that could only be described as breathtaking. He said that some of the cadet's hats were blown off and the sight of the plan form of the plane in full afterburner dropping right in front of them was unbelievable. Walt and I both understood the concept of "breathtaking" very well that morning, and sheepishly replied that they were just excited to see our low approach.

As we retired to the equipment room to change from space suits to flight suits, we just sat there-we hadn't spoken a word since "the pass." Finally, Walter looked at me and said, "One hundred fifty-six knots.

What did you see?" Trying to find my voice, I stammered, "One hundred fifty-two." We sat in silence for a moment.

Then Walt said, "Don't ever do that to me again!" And I never did.

A year later, Walter and I were having lunch in the Mildenhall Officer's club, and overheard an officer talking to some cadets about an SR-71 fly-past that he had seen one day. Of course, by now the story included kids falling off the tower and screaming as the heat of the jet singed their eyebrows. Noticing our HABU patches, as we stood there with lunch trays in our hands, he asked us to verify to the cadets that such a thing had occurred. Walt just shook his head and said, "It was probably just a routine low approach; they're pretty impressive in that plane." Impressive indeed.

Little did I realize after relaying this experience to my audience that day that it would become one of the most popular and most requested stories. It's ironic that people are interested in how slow the world's fastest jet can fly. Regardless of your speed, however, it's always a good idea to keep that cross-check up, and keep your Mach.