“You’re on YouTube,” the clerk at Duane Reade said to me as I was buying a diet coke in order to break a twenty. “Oh am I?”
I had been witness, maybe a week or so prior, to an odd skirmish that took place right at the cash registers, where someone who was accused of being a thief was being restrained by either another shopper or plainclothes security. It was, needless to say, unclear.
If you click through, which by all means do if you want to be sad about humanity for a scant few minutes, you can see this queen getting all up in the situation, screaming “you a thief,” which, what is that line from “30 Rock”? Ah yes, “Drama is gay man Gatorade. It replenishes their electrolytes.”
There were if I remember right at the very least three people holding up their cellphones, recording the fight until the police arrived. “Don’t you put me on YouTube,” the queen said, though obviously the subtext was the exact opposite.
“Haha, how are there only 54 views, this video needs to spread,” one commenter wrote. Which, ugh. Not everything gets auto-tuned, not everyone gets to be Antoine Dodson or whomever, I guess is the takeaway if there can even be a takeaway.
All of this is prologue to the fact that clearly I looked the clip up when I got home. There I am, strolling by, bemused, sundries in tow, shortly after the two minute mark. I guess I never claimed I wasn’t part of the problem?
