“Where’s my car?”

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Last night I saw my friend Sean sitting in a parking lot as I drove by. He had just been on a fight call that sounded interesting on the radio so I went to ask him about it. As soon as I pulled up Sean said, “This would make a great blog story.”

Sean was sent to a call in which a couple of women were fighting. When he arrived, Sean saw them still fighting and yelling at each other on the east side of the street. He separated everyone and waited for the other officers to arrive.

“Have a seat and tell me what happened,” Sean said to one of the women.

The woman was breathing hard and was upset, but she sat down as she said, “I’m the oldest. She’s my sister and we were trying to get her back into the car.”

The woman then stood up as she looked across the street like she was stranded on a life boat and just saw land for the first time in a month. That’s when she said, “Where’s my car?”

“Where did you park your car?” Sean asked.

“Across the street. Where’s my mother fucking car?”

The woman then ran across a major road without looking for traffic. It’s amazing she didn’t get hit by a car. She screamed “Where’s my car?” the entire time.  Once she got to the west side of the street she ran back across to where Sean was while she was still yelling, “Where’s my car?”

When she got back she told Sean, “Do something! You’re the police!”

“Did you leave your car running with the keys in it?”

“Yeah! Where’s my car?”

“What kind of car do you have?”

“Hurry! The longer you wait, the farther it gets away!”

She was so distraught her brother had to scream at her to calm down. When she finally was able to give a description of the car she told the officers it had paper plates.

Sean told me, “I bet the suspect saw the car and drove away while I was across the street.”

I wish I had been there! You can’t make this stuff up.