Very true, Lucky. Just this morning, trying to navigate the 6th Ave. bike lane in Midtown — which is filled with idling limos, police traffic sawhorses, the odd huge pile of police-horse crap (really) — I almost got doored. The fashion shows are in Bryant Park, and an honest-to-god fashionista threw her cab door open right into the bike lane. I screeched to a halt. (Sounded closer than it was, so everyone turned.) This woman in her nice coat and done-up hair looked at me and said, "It's not as if it's my fault." (Her accurate grammar floored me, so I didn't say anything for a second. "As if" rather than "like"!) "Well," I finally said, "yes. It is your fault. Look first." If I'd had the light and a clean getaway, I'm quite sure my response would have been angrier and more profane. And it would have done no good at all in the long run.