“1234” by Feist was bumping at the 72nd Street Urban Outfitters while the cops handcuffed me and took me to jail. It was 2007; I was 15 years old.
My plan had failed. I was going to buy four pairs of socks to secure a receipt and perform an imaginary “business call” as I passed through the metal detectors while exiting the store (in case the beeper went off). I’d wave off the security guard with my phone held up to my ear and tell him, “Please, sir, excuse me—I’m on Business.” I bought the socks, held the receipt, and made the fake call. But when the security guard yelled out and started to pull me back into the store, I wasn’t brave enough to make a run for it.
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