The Drug Dealer’s Phone

In honor of my bffs temporarily leaving Thailand to galavant around the United States, I thought I would share a story.

But, as per my personality,  before I get to the actual story, I would like to give a bit a preface:

  1. Shortly before this story took place, my car (the same car that will be mentioned in the forthcoming story) had been stolen from outside of my place of residence.  Now, as far as car stealing stories go, mine was rather undramatic. My car was actually found before I even knew it was gone. Regardless, the thievery may have had a minor effect on the way I thought through scenarios.
  2. While I am (in my humble opinion) a highly intelligent person, I may sometimes, sometimes, allow emotions to dictate my thinking rather than rational thought. Sometimes.
  3. The Lorensens are gems of human beings.

The Story:

One night, after returning from an evening spent at the Lorensen household, I realized that there was strange cellphone in the cup holder of my car.

The cellphone was one of those old virgin mobile phones that you didn’t have to have a plan or a contract, you just bought a SIM card and paid for minutes–remember those? Knowing that this type of cellphone was only used by drug dealers and other not-so-innocent characters and considering that my car had been recently stolen by vandals of the same sort, I jumped to the completely logical conclusion that the strange phone in my cup holder belonged to a drug dealing thug who was clearly using my car as his office.

Obviously.

But, even though this was some crazy drama, it was late at night, I was tired and I didn’t feel like dealing with it right then. Instead I decided to leave the phone in the car for the night and resolve this situation the next day when either a) the drug dealer would return to his office and retrieve his phone, meaning there wouldn’t even be a situation to deal with, or b) I would call the police.

I had a plan. Everything was under control. I went to bed that night completely unfazed.

Meanwhile at the Lorensen household, Tracy couldn’t find her cellphone so Caleb called it a couple of times before they retired to bed, assuming that it was somewhere in their house and they would find it in the morning.

The next morning, as I was driving to work, the drug dealer’s cronies started calling the phone to make their drug orders and to plan their next heist.  The phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing. I didn’t dare answer the calls, or even touch the phone to see the name of the caller. I neither wanted my finger prints on the devise, nor did I want to be associated with these criminals.  Instead, I just let the phone ring. Each ring more thoroughly confirming my notion that this phone belonged to a no-good-sort of a person.

While at work, I called the police. With complete confidence, I told the police that a drug dealer involved in some majorly illegal activities had started using my car as their office and left their phone in my car. A few follow-up questions were asked and then they told me to bring the phone in.  I said I would come after my shift.

After talking to the police I called Tracy to tell her all about the exciting drama happening in my life.

She didn’t answer her phone.

At the end of my shift, sitting in my car getting ready to go to the police station, I decided to call Tracy again.  This was such a nutty situation, I wanted her to share it with me.  While I was waiting for Tracy to answer my call, the drug dealer’s phone rang again! The drama was continuing to mount!

Since I couldn’t get ahold of Tracy, I decided to stop by her house before I went to the police station.  I told her that I had tried to call her before I came over, but she didn’t answer her phone.  She told me that she hadn’t been able to find her phone since the night before.

me:  “Oh! Shoot! That sucks, I’m sure you’ll find it, it’s bound to be around here somewhere… now listen to this craziness… [I tell her all about the drug dealer’s phone…]

tracy: 

me: This is CRAZY! Don’t you think?!?

tracy: 

me: What?

tracy:  Can I see the phone?

And so, as I’m sure you guessed early on in the story, the drug dealer’s phone was actually Tracy’s phone. Apparently, even though my phone had already been in my purse, the night before, as I was leaving the Lorensen abode, I grabbed Tracy’s phone thinking it was my own. Because despite my prejudice towards minute-to-minute phones, I had one too and our phones looked incredibly similar.

And, of course, as I’m sure you also guessed, all the phone calls from the drug dealer’s cohorts, were actually from Caleb. Which I would have known, had I not been so scared of tampering with the evidence.

At this point, I would like to remind you all, that I had already called the cops and reported this phone, telling them that I was on my way with the evidence.  So I had to call them back and basically said, “um… never mind.”


So there you have it.

This is probably one of my more embarrassing moments, making it also one of my most favorite memories.  I still laugh to myself and blush when I think about how absolutely certain I was in my presumptions–when in reality, the only criminal in this story was myself.

Caleb and Tracy, bless you.

Thank you guys for still allowing my to be part of your team despite this story, despite my fondness towards jumping to worst-case-scenario conclusions and despite my overly active imagination.

Love you guys.

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5 Comments

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5 responses to “The Drug Dealer’s Phone

  1. Ashleigh

    Oh. My. Goodness, SMR!!!! I’m dying. You are hilarious! 😂😂😂 Thank you for sharing with all the world. This is the best story I’ve heard in a while. And you are awesome. And I miss you tons. ❤️- Ash

  2. gramma Sharon

    real life …hilarious …love u

  3. This is hilarious.

  4. Kevin Donlan

    Are we sure Tracy is not selling drugs?

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