Amac Productions

Drug Deal Gone Wrong

Welcome to Listen To This!

If you’re new here, welcome! Every month, I’ll drop a new wild story from all my years working in retail! Names and other identifiers have been changed so everyone may remain anonymous. All terrible customers will be referred to as Karen. However, this week we’re taking a stroll down the street to the local softball field for a Daren story.

Truth be told, there are no drugs in this tale from the Starbury softball team. None. Zip. Zelch. Nada. Zero.

If you’re confused, well, join the freaking club because so is everyone else.

Are you ready? Ready?

It’s a lovely day for softball practice. The girls on this particular team are too young to arrive by themselves. They’re only 13 or 14 years old. They’re not driving themselves across the city to get to softball practice. Sure, some might walk since a handful live around the corner, but the others are getting rides.

Two girls on this fine day have arrived early with their fathers.

In separate cars.

They park beside the field with their children awaiting the arrival of the coach and other team members from the front passenger side of their cars.

Just waiting.

With their fathers in the driver’s seats of each car.

No one gets out. No one does anything. In fact, one is listening to music and bopping along while they await the rest of the group to start practice.

Why am I telling you all of this?

Well, just hang in there with me, because it’s all going to be super important shortly. I promise.

They wait. And wait. And wait. They’ve arrived quite early on this day. Each car is in line with each other beside the field, which is locked currently and the coach has the key.

This particular field is part of the local church who have allowed the Starbury Youth Softball League and a soccer league to utilize their facilities which are not accessible to the public. Therefore, a key. With all the proper permits to use the field and written permission from the church itself.

It’s a nice field we’ve been graciously allowed to use and therefore we treat it well. Which means not breaking in or jumping the fence and possibly ruining their property.

So, like the good caring citizens these girls and fathers are, they wait in the car for about 15 minutes before the coach arrives with the key. He unlocks the gate and everyone is allowed into the field.

It’s a really nice field with several attached fields and a concession stand built in with a speaker system that all the girls fight over using during games to announce the teams and play music. It’s the nicest place SYSL has ever had to call home for themselves.

Nearby, of course, if the church who gave us permission to use it and there are several houses. It’s not on a main road, it’s tucked into a suburban neighborhood with one road that’s only ever used by the people who live there and the people heading to the softball/soccer field. The church has separate access.

There’s a nice little parking lot, but the gate is locked until the head coach with the key arrives. Which means that the early birds just park off to the side of the gate beside the field waiting.

Then you pull into the parking lot and pull out your stuff and head to practice.

One of the girls’ fathers who was early helps them coach, so he hangs out on the field. The other does not, so he takes a spot in the stands looking dapper and nice because he’s come from work to bring his daughter.

The girls filter in here and there with parents dropping them off in bundles and heading off with promises to retrieve them later. Otherwise, someone has already planned to drop them off for them. Perhaps the other parent is coming. Regardless, all of the team members arrive and it’s a normal summer softball practice.

Until it isn’t.

Because the girls take partners and a ball and head to the outfield to warm up.

They’re tossing the ball back and forth when a police car pulls up.

Now, I’d like to say this is unusual in and of itself, but… It’s not.

No, this happens from time to time. Especially with the church. It’s been vandalized before and we had just started using the fields so it’s perfectly understandable that the police are cautious of a group of teens milling about on the field. They patrol the area knowing that the field is a likely target for stupid things and they saw us from the road and didn’t know what was happening.

Cool.

I get it.

It’s also happened on the fields we used before here.

Police would stop and ask if we have permits to play on the field.

Happens.

Not the first. Doubt it would be the last.

In fact, it’s happened so much that Jeff – our head coach for this team – isn’t even surprised to see the police car pull into the parking lot. He’s already halfway out of the dugout to greet them.

Jeff is two words into explaining that the paperwork is in the glovebox of his car and if you give him a second, he’ll just grab it so they can see we’re all good.

Except, that’s not why they’re here.

No.

The police officer stepping out of the driver’s seat announces that they were called about a drug deal happening here.

Both police officers are clearly on edge despite being somewhat confused by the faces of multiple fathers with 15 teenage girls clearly participating in an organized sport.

So confused, they barely make it two steps from their vehicle before they’re pausing and looking around.

I mean, let’s take a moment from their perspective.

The police were called to a location for a potential drug deal happening right now. When they arrive on scene, they’re confronted with multiple full-grown males who do not at all fit the description of a drug dealer, including one guy who is dressed really nicely from working in an office all day. Softball gear everywhere. And 15 girls aged 13 to 14 with softball gloves on, playing catch while laughing and chatting about their summers.

Right.

I’d be f*cking confused too.

In fact, I am.

Everyone is.

The coaches, the girls, the police officers.

Everyone is just f*cking lost.

Jeff blinks confused about the matter, staring at the police officers like they did not just say what he thinks they said. So out of his mouth comes, “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

Confused the police officer who was got out of the driver’s side, looks around super confused as well. Because this is kind of one of those things designed to keep kids from using drugs. But he waves at the two cars that were there early. A nice red SUV that the father in the suit was driving. And a black somewhat beat-up truck the other father and daughter were in.

“We got a call saying those two cars were doing a drug deal.”

The police officer is still confused.

But now both fathers whose cars were just pointed out step forward.

Now, remember how I told you before that one of them was dressed nicely from working in his office all day?

Yeah, he wasn’t working in just any office that day. He works for the city mayor. He’s a well-respected man of the community so when he steps forward, the officers are extra confused because they know him.

Immediately, the adults and the police officers attempt to understand what in the world is happening here because clearly a drug deal was not happening here.

Especially when both fathers just tell them to search the cars if you feel so inclined because WTF.

However, the police officers are pretty chill and wonder if they got the location wrong or if something was miscommunicated along the way.

Of course, the 15 teenagers are having a field day mocking the crap out of the situation.

Like, yes, we had a drug deal and then we stopped to have softball practice while waiting for the police to show up and catch us.

Where do you think the drugs are? In the softballs?

One of them shook her glove at the officer and was like do you want to look?

We promise the softballs aren’t hollow.

If we were making drug deals, do you think any of us would be playing softball right now?

Jeff tried to stop them, but hey, they’re teenagers. As they cracked more and more jokes about where the ‘stuff’ was. The police officers just rolled their eyes at the teens and decided to return to their car and ask for clarification on this call.

However, before that could happen, a man stumbles out of the nearest house. Shirtless, shoeless, in shorts, and waving a beer can while he shouts at the officers.

“Yeah!” Hiccup. “That’s them! There! They’re drug dealers.” Hiccup. “I saw ’em.”

In a true comedic fashion, both officers looked at each other as if to say, ‘ah, we found the issue.’ Then proceeded in the man’s direction while 15 teenagers died in left field of laughter as their coach tried to tell them to have some etiquette or manners or something.

Suffice to say, they did not listen.

Instead, they roared more with laughter and shouted to the officers that they’re pretty certain they’re not the problem.

The nicely dressed father just purses his lips to hide his snicker. The other father just shakes his head. And Jeff is torn between trying to stop the girls from laughing and mocking people and asking the police if we’re good or if they need anything else.

Meanwhile, the officers take one step in the direction of the bare-chested man with the beer belly and torn shorts and begin talking to him.

“Sir, did you call the police about a alleged drug deal?”

“Yes! I did.” Hiccup. “They’re ruining the neighborhood with their crack.” Hiccup.

“They’re playing softball.” For the first time the other officer speaks up. Clearly annoyed with the entire situation.

Thus, begins a lot of slurring and shouting as the clearly very drunk man tries to explain that he saw the drug deal happening because the two cars pulled up one in front of the other. Though the officers manage to clarify that no one left their cars until Jeff arrived to let them into the parking lot.

Which sets off the teenagers again.

They wonder if they had some elaborate tunnel system set up that they could access from their cars. Or maybe they used RC cars. Or maybe they have a teleporter in their cars to send the drugs and money back and forth.

Because how the f*ck else do you explain to Daren over here that it’s not possible to hand off drugs or money without coming face to face.

Though he claims it happened in the parking lot when Jeff let them in.

Right, sure. They waited for an entire team of softball players to appear to do a drug deal in broad daylight with all the teenagers as witnesses. Then they decided to hang around and wait for the police to not only offer up their identities without issue and offer to let the officers check cars or equipment if they wanted.

“They’re.” Hiccup. “Very clever.”

Which I mean, it could all be an elaborate cover. I’m not saying that’s not possible. I’m just saying – what the h*ll are the odds?

Seriously?

I don’t think any criminals of that level are taking their drug deals to the level of hiding beneath a very legit softball organization that got permission from the nearby church just to cover their crimes. I mean, that’s a lot of f*cking work. At that point, just go legit. It’s not worth the effort.

The officers spent a chunk of time explaining to Daren that he’s a moron and perhaps he should have less beer.

It might help his brain.

Definitely his liver.

They didn’t say the part about his brain, I added that. But they definitely called him a moron without calling him a moron to his face and then I’m fairly certain they called him a moron in the car. The station. And probably at home. And every time they tell the story of how they got called to arrest a bunch of girls just playing their sport while most of their fathers hung out on in the bleachers.

Because yes, that is exactly how a drug deal looks.

Especially with the invisible people moving the invisible money and the invisible drugs back and forth.

Like what?

So yes, when I was 13, I had the police called on me, and my dad for dealing drugs out of our black truck with my friend who was 14, whose dad worked for the mayor. To this very day, and I do mean this very day since we had a run-in not too long ago at the grocery store, we have a running joke about this day. Because we no longer greet each other like normal people would.

We don’t say hello. Or what’s up. Or how are you doing?

No, we nod like punk drug dealers and ask if we’ve got the ‘stuff.’ Then we clap hands like we’re passing drugs back and forth.

Which – mind you – looks far more like a drug deal than the day we got the police called on us for this and yet despite being in our 30s, we’ve never had the police called on us again. Go figure.

Apparently, while acting like drug dealers we look nothing like drug dealers.

However, minding our own business, with our fathers in the same car, and playing a sport we had been playing since we were single digits – that’s suspicious as h*ll.

Yes, this is a real story I promise. And if you like this tale where we’ve stepped out of the General Nonsense, let me know. I’ve got more to share.

Thanks for reading! Spread the love and read on!