Monday, March 21, 2011

A Series of Strange Events for a Thursday

St. Patty's Day is supposed to be a day to wear green, kiss people who claim to be Irish, and drink a ridiculous amount of beer. However, that wasn't the case for me this year. Let me start from the beginning...

Wednesday night (March 16th), started off fairly normal. I normally volunteer at an animal shelter, however, the fiancé was leaving for his Bachelor party in Vegas that night and had requested that I give him a ride to the airport. Being a good wife-to-be that I am, I skipped out on my weekly mitzvah of helping the puppies for the night and schlepped through downtown and dropped him off for his flight. Because I wasn't going to volunteer, I made plans with some girl friends to go out to dinner at one of my favorite local spots (the restaurant will remain nameless since I love it so much and don't want to give it a bad rep for what is to come). After some good food, conversation, and adult beverages, I headed back home to unwind for the night, or so I thought.

It turned out that one of the other guys who was headed to Vegas decided to give up his seat on his 7pm flight in exchange for $400 Delta dollars. While he thought he was being put on the 8:30pm flight (which did not exist), the reality was that he was instead put on the 8:30am flight the next day. He did try to fly stand-by on the 10:15pm flight, but was unsuccessful. Being the good friend that I am, I told him to come to my house and crash for the night and that I would take him to the train at 6:30am the next morning so he could catch him new flight. The friend arrived at my house around 11pm and immediately grabbed a much needed beer. We ended up hanging out until midnight, which was way past my bedtime for a school night (no, I am not in school but I will forever refer to weeknights as school nights). I set my alarm for 6:30am and then passed out.

Around 2:30am, I woke up and immediately ran to the bathroom where I proceeded to throw up for the next 2 1/2 hours straight. Clearly, something from my dinner did not agree with me and wanted to get out of my body immediately. After finally feeling like I was in the clear, I went back to bed around 5am, only to be awoken at 6:30am to the annoying sound of my alarm clock. Looking and feeling like hell, I dragged myself out of bed, threw on some clothes, grabbed the dogs and my friend, and drove around the corner to the train stop. I came back home and immediately emailed my bosses to let them know that I would be in at noon due to my lack of sleep. I then threw up a little more and passed back out.

Around 9:45am, the garage truck arrived in my cul-de-sac for our weekly trash pickup. The loud noise of the truck and the workers always sets my dogs off into a barking frenzy. I guess I was getting up.

*Let me give me a description of my house and the floor plan of our master bedroom - our master is above the garage and looks out into our driveway and cul-de-sac. We have a balcony off the master which allows the dogs to look out and see everything that is happening in the world outside. Now back to the story.

I walked over to my closet to change out of my PJs and into something more appropriate for the outside world to see so I could take the dogs for their morning walk. At this point I noticed that the garbage truck had left and now a random silver car with extremely dark tinted windows was parked perpendicular to my driveway (like it was blocking it in). I stood there and watched a strange black man get out of the car and then proceed to do a lap around our friend's Infiniti that was parked in our driveway. He then walked to my front door and rang the doorbell. I immediately released the hounds (a.k.a. sent the dogs downstairs) to viciously bark at this strange man and scare him off).
The tinting on the car was more like a limo's.
I then saw the man walk back down my driveway and get into his car. I thought he was going to leave, but I was wrong. A few seconds later, he got back out of the car with a strange white bag in his hand. He placed the bag into my mailbox, shut it, got back into his car, and then drove away.  At this point, I grabbed the dogs and walked out the front door to take them for their morning walk. (I normally go out the garage and leave the garage door open while I'm out walking them, but I just didn't feel safe with my regular routine that morning.) I walked over to the mailbox and opened it to examine the mysterious package. What I discovered was a bag full of drugs. I immediately shut the mailbox and dialed 9-1-1. I explained to the dispatcher what had happened and what I had found in my mailbox. I told her I was going to leave the package in the mailbox and she said that she would send an officer over right away. 

I don't recall my mailbox having the same message on it.
I then proceeded on my daily 10-15 minute walk with the dogs out of the cul-de-sac and down the street. While walking, I called my friend who is a dog walker and has a client around the corner from my house where she goes to every day around 10:30am. I told her what happened and she offered to come by and wait for the cops with me. She also advised me to knock on my neighbor's doors to see if anyone else had seen this suspicious vehicle before. I knocked on the three neighbors' doors to right of my house only to get no answer.

At this point, I decided to go back upstairs and wait for the police to come while staring out the window in case the car showed back up. My dog-walking friend called back to check on me. When I told her that none of my neighbors had answered their door (even though their cars were all parked in their driveways), she advised me to go to the house two doors down to the left of my house because she knew the guy who lived there and he worked from home. I left the dogs in the house and walked over to meet my neighbor for the first time. Luckily, he answered the door (he's an adorable gay Canadian). I introduced myself and told him what had happened and asked him if this type of act had been reported before. He then told me that two weeks ago, he had a friend visiting from Canada. The friend was downstairs in his kitchen, which looks out of the front door area. He saw two white-trash 20-somethings walk up to his house, wave, and then proceed through the fence and into his backyard. The friend then told my neighbor what was happening, as he thought the two trashtastic guys were his next door neighbors. My neighbor then ran out of his house and started screaming at these two intruders and told them to get off of his property immediately before he calls the cops. The guys kept asking for Mike (which is not the name of my neighbor). He then told them that there was no Mike living in that house and to leave. The two guys then got into their car and just sat in his driveway. My neighbor then walked behind their car and pretended to document their license plate number into his phone. The two hillbillies then killed their lights (this happened at night) and then drove off.
We're looking for Mike!
My first question to my neighbor was, "Did you call the police?" He said no. My second question was, "Who is Mike?" He thought about it for a few seconds and then said, "You know, Mike was the guy who was renting your house before the owner went into foreclosure. He was actually big time into drugs." BINGO! It seems like the random guy who did a drug drop-off in my mailbox was actually coming for Mike, who hasn't lived there in months.

At this point, my dog walker friend showed up and immediately asked to see these drugs. I told her that I left them in the mailbox. All three of us walked over to my mailbox, but when I opened it, the drugs were gone! A few minutes later, the cop showed up. I told him the whole story, but since the evidence was gone, there was nothing he could do. He told me that if I had gotten a license plate number or still had the package in my mailbox, we would have had a case.
Where did the drugs go???
My theory is that the guy pulled up to my house thinking that this Mike guy still lived there. He then did a walk around our friend's car because he didn't remember that being there before. When he rang the doorbell and the dogs came to the door, he started to think that Mike didn't live there anymore. Once he put the stash into the mailbox and drove off, he then called this Mike guy, who then told him he had moved. While I was out walking the dogs, he must have come back and picked up the drugs and drove off. Man, I should be a detective!

Not the ideal way to start off a St. Patty's Day, but it did make for one hell of a story!

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