We’ed Better Move

I was a sheltered freshman living in dorms attached to campus. I was walking into the parking lot on my way to my next class, and I saw a guy sitting in a car smoking. He looked at me, groaned, then got out of his car and put his hands on the roof. I froze, not sure what to do. After a beat, he looked back at me and laughed.

Guy: “Oh! You’re not a cop.”

Me: *Wearing a green t-shirt and white basketball shorts.* “No.”

Guy: “I totally thought you were!”

I watch as he laughs and gets back in his car. Then he looks at me.

Guy: “I should probably move, though, right? That way if you call the cops, you won’t be able to tell them where I am.”

Me: “I guess…”

This is a small lot, with one row on either side. He puts his car in reverse and backs in a straight line into a spot directly across from where he was parked before. Then he waves at me.

Guy: “We’re good now.”

I wave and leave, not entirely sure what to do. When I come back, the guy is gone. My roommate reads me the riot act later for not calling 911 on a clearly impaired guy behind the wheel of a car and for how, by not calling the cops, I had endangered everyone on the road. My only excuse is that it was my first encounter with drugs, and I was baffled by the whole experience.