Tyler and Trevor both got out and saw a second police car driving up. One policeman began questioning the boys, while the other shined a flashlight in the back of the truck.
Policeman 1: What are you guys doing?
Tyler: We’re, uh … Dumpster Diving. We go around the neighborhood and look through people’s trash and find stuff to sell on Craigslist.
Policeman 1, laughing: That’s really funny. That’s such a good idea.
Policeman 2, still searching the back of the truck: Hey, an electric smoker. I actually have been looking for one of these.
Policeman 1: Well, maybe you guys should start going earlier in the evening.
Tyler: Well, we like to go at night because it’s kind of embarrassing when people see you digging through their trash. One time this guy came outside and asked us if we were stealing his identity.
Policeman 1: Yeah, that’s what we were worried about. Someone saw you guys and called us. Maybe just let the neighborhood guard know next time that y’all will be out doing this.
Tyler: Yeah, okay, we will.
(So, I guess next time the boys will call the guard and say, “Hey, just letting you know we’ll be out digging through people’s trash tonight.”)
Tyler just told me they were planning to start going earlier anyway, because there’s a copycat in the neighborhood, who has recently been going around and snatching all the good stuff before Tyler and Trevor get there.
Tyler and Trevor have been doing this almost nightly for a while now. At the neighborhood garage sale in May, they made $500 selling other people’s junk. I’m not even fazed anymore when I hear Trevor say, “Hey Tyler, wanna go Dumpster Diving after dinner?”
The boys think there may even be two copycats. When they were out recently – with my boyfriend Andrew tagging along – they saw a barbecue pit and began driving to the house for a closer look. As they approached, however, they saw this guy – their friend’s dad, actually – begin running toward said barbecue pit and start hauling it away.
Needless to say, the boys were a little ticked that others are stealing their idea. I’ve been refraining from blogging about this for a while now, because I didn’t want to let the secret out. But it seems the word has already spread. Also, this latest incident was too much for me to handle. I had to share.
Speaking of police, let me tell you about my own encounter with them a few years ago.
As my sophomore year of college was wrapping up, I had to part ways with my dear friend and sorority Big Sis, Rachel. She was graduating, soon off to bigger and better things. … Or so I thought.
I was packing up my room when I got a text from some mysterious number that said, “You’ve been invited to join a secret society. If you accept, reply with a simple, ‘Yes,’ nothing more. Then be outside of your dorm at 2:37 a.m.”
I instantly speculated that Rachel was behind this. Rachel is … very sarcastic, and she seems to enjoy pretending to be serious about stupid things.*
* Rachel, a dancer, once taught me how to lean over into a backbend – not simply lay on the ground and pop up into a backend but lean back until I can drop my hands onto the floor. After practicing many times – often insisting I couldn’t do it and collapsing onto the ground in defeat – I finally mastered this. The next day, she demanded I show her dancer friends, in the middle of the school cafeteria. I laughed at her joke, and then I realized she was serious. With a straight face, she agreed to also do a backbend alongside me, so I would look less stupid … or at least so that I wouldn’t be the only one looking stupid.
Anyway, I received this text message and knew Rachel had typed it. So, I disobeyed the instructions and responded with, “Yeah, OMG. So psyched!!! LOLOLOL.”
I then set my alarm for 2:37 a.m. When it went off, I sleepily walked down to the lobby of my dorm and saw Rachel and others waiting for me. They blindfolded me, and we drove somewhere.
We pulled up to a field on campus, outside of our gym. I was given an obnoxious old prom dress to throw on over my clothes. I did as I was told, laughing and telling Rachel how dumb she was.
We walked out to the middle of the field, all decked out in these 80s dresses. There were six of us – Rachel and two other already-inducted members of this fake society; and three of us soon-to-be-members-of-this-fake-society.
Rachel and the other two members pulled out folders and began reading. Being the nerd she is, Rachel had planned the ceremony ahead of time; while one of them read to us about the importance of this Secret Literary Society, another person presented us each with a book.
Our solemn ceremony was soon interrupted, however, when we saw a policeman walking through the field toward our circle.
Rachel broke character: “What do we do?”
“Run,” I said.
We decided to continue with the ceremony. The policeman came up and simply stood on the outside of our circle and listened.
“A secret book club,” he said when we’d finished. “You guys are alright by me.”
I drove home the next day and immediately told my family I was inducted into a secret society. When Rachel learned of this, she scolded me. She’ll probably scold me for this blog post, too.
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