When my mind goes into wandering mode, sometimes I think about what I’d do in an emergency. Would I freeze up, fall to the floor and curl up into a ball? Maybe if I survived a plane crash, I would remember what I’ve learned watching disaster movies and crawl around trying to help others. I’d like to think if I was in that Brooklyn McDonald’s when that young girl got jumped last week, I would have tried to somehow diffuse the situation before it got out of hand.

“Welp, time to break out my camera phone and get this on video so I can post it before the fight is over! Oh, and ladies you might want to put your weaves in this bucket, no sense in getting them all tangled up.”

It’s easy for me to say that I would have intervened when it was clear that this was a severe attack by several on one. That’s why I’m saying it. Still, I probably would’ve been jumped myself by the girls or even the guys who felt I shouldn’t be interfering. I am not surprised no one stepped in until the end-and if that guy didn’t-we would have seen a murder. Nowadays, it is more important to record events than experience them in real time. Facebook and Instagram have become slide shows and home movies of the lives of people we barely know. We decided that was boring back in the 50’s and 60’s.

Everything about this beat down was sickening, but the worst was the victim claiming fame for being assaulted and humiliated. Instead of cooperating with the hated cops, she opted to accept “congratulations” on social media.

I caught a beating in high school from a sax player. I started it, but came up woefully short in the ensuing throw down and ended up with a beauty of a black eye. When I came home my dad laughed like a hyena before giving me a hunk of raw steak to put on my eye. The last thing I wanted was publicity.

These kids today….

William Stephenson

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