his or her original customs, manners and beliefs much to the chagrin of their established neighbors. The clues that you are living near an Urbanist would be: the presence of used condoms in the parking lot; the placing of the telephone in the open kitchen window so that all neighbors hear it; screaming and yelling at multiple sex partners (on different days, of course). Also, a variant of the Urbanist is the far worst Urbanista, who will sign an apartment lease for 1 or 2 people, but we really know that their new dwelling is nothing more than a way station for their 20 and more friends, extended family and other terrorist cell members. You know an Urbanista is nearby when: roaches and other vermin suddenly appear; sandals are piled up outside their door; no furniture, but plenty of floor mats inside; the building starts to stink of food or human waste (what’s the difference here, eh?).
Urbanista: Damn, tripped over those damn urbanista sandals again.