The moral of the story is, don't toss your cookies in a parking garage

So this is a random story.

Yesterday J called me from work and said that he might be coming home after work, depending on how he felt.  He had been home the night before, and he'll be home tonight, so I told him to do what he wanted, we'd be happy to see him, but if he wanted to stay up in Vail for the night, no worries.

At 3:15 in the afternoon, he calls me again.  He would be coming home, but he can't get to his car because it's in a parking deck that is surrounded by police and fire trucks because there's been a bomb scare.  Nobody seems particularly worried, but the authorities are out in full force, so it doesn't look like he can come home unless they open up the garage soon.

At 4:10, I get an email from Vonage indicating that I have a voicemail on my home phone.  It's got a sound attachment with the voicemail message, so I listen to it.  It's the Vail police, informing me that there's a bomb threat that may involve my car (all of our cars are registered in my name), and could I please contact them.

So I call the cops and they ask me if I own a white Honda.  I tell them I do.  They ask if it's parked in the garage in Vail.  I tell them that I assume so, but that my husband drives the car for work, and that I am in Denver.  They tell me there's a suspicious package next to the car that they are investigating, and ask me what J does for a living.  I tell them that he's working on a building in Vail Village.  I offer to get in touch with him and have him call them, and they ask for his cell number.

J calls me later.

"What the fuck is going on?" I ask him.

"It was the craziest thing.  They called me, so I met them at the garage.  They had like 7 or 8 people march me to the car, doing that thing where they 'guide' you by holding you under your armpits."

"Jeez!"

"Yeah.  So they asked me if it was my car, and I said it was.  Then they pointed to this little box and asked if it was mine.  I said it wasn't.  Then I walked over to it and picked it up and shook it.  You shoulda seen 'em, baby, it was hilarious.  They all dove for cover like they thought it would blow up on the spot.  They were telling me not to touch it, so I put it down, but I could see what was in it."

"What?"

"Cookies.  Cookies and a sandwich."

"So what happened?"

"Well, they were all on their walkie-talkies, all serious, talking about a box of cookies.  Finally they gave the all clear and I was allowed to take my car and leave."

"Somebody seriously called in a bomb threat because they saw a little box on the ground?"

"I think they also saw a car idling nearby for a little while."

"Oh, for God's sake."

So, yeah.  My husband couldn't come home last night because some idiot in Vail dropped their lunch on their way to work, and another idiot apparently has seen the Bourne movies too many times.  Also, my husband is crazy.  But we knew that already.

Happy Friday, all.