Smokers

Mary has previewed this story and given it a stamp of approval. If you find it offensive or lacking in propriety Mary sincerely apologizes.





Most folks are unaware of the debt of gratitude we owe smokers.


There are very few people who go out of the warmth of their homes at 2:00 in the morning and sit on the porch observing the goings-on in the neighborhood. I was amazed how many calls I got from smokers who had witnessed shenanigans in their neighborhoods.


One night I got a call from a woman who was sitting on her front porch for a smoke just about 1:00 A.M. It was a winter night with a heavy, quiet, sleepy snow falling. Most people were home in bed and the shift had been relatively slow.


She related, with oozing disgust in her voice, that a Corvette had pulled up in the middle of her street in front of her house. There emerged a man who walked to the front of his car and proceeded to urinate on the street. She was holding her cordless phone, so she gave me the play-by-play as we talked. I sent the call to the Ogden dispatcher and kept her on the line anticipating that our suspect would get back in his car and drive away.


“He’s looking at me,” my caller suddenly said.


For the next several seconds my caller locked eyes with the perpetrator. Neither moved; neither flinched. I began to worry that he might chase her or come after her and mentioned that she might want to return to the house.


“He’s getting back into his car,” she said. The perp flinched first.


As he hurried back to the driver-side door, our suspect discovered that he had locked the keys in his still running car.


“He can’t get in!” my caller screamed while laughing at him. Their eyes locked again, but this time our suspect began running down the street to get away. Officers were getting pretty close so I relayed a good description of what he was wearing and what direction he was running.


Amusingly enough, when you drunkenly run down the middle of the street blanketed by freshly-fallen snow, you are pretty easy to find. Officers just followed the wobbly footprints down the street leading them to a drunk and grumpy suspect.


The suspect was charming enough that instead of using the wrecker’s slim-jim to open the car and retrieve his keys, they just pulled the still-running Corvette onto the wrecker and took it to the tow-yard to run out of gas there.


Suspect apprehended – drunk off the street – midnight smoker to thank.