A close friend of mine has told a lot of people about this one, but very few believed him. I do because he called me for advice. I'll tell it exactly like my friend tells it (I must of heard it and help him confirm it at least 30 times by now):
"I was moving to Nice (France) by train (from paris) for a week of holidays last summer, and brought 120g of herb with me (might seem crazy to some, but in France trains are "safe" to move in). As I hop on the train, I notice a 20-30 year old passenger with a suitcase that is exactly the same model as mine. I laugh and think how stupid it would be that I would take the wrong one and leave all the goods with a stranger (note that in french train, all the suitcases are placed in a suitcase area). That passenger ends up having his seat just one row after mine, in front of a lady who seems to be his sister or friend." You know where this is going.
"I dose off with music and set an alarm to 20mins before arrival time to make sure to get the right suitcase. Only when I wake up, that guy is gone, lady still there though. I hurry to the suitcases, and of course mine is gone. I check my ticket and there was a stop, thankfully only 15min ago at a city called Gap. I do some thinking and conclude that it's best not to let the guy know I realised he has my suitcase, else he might get scared and dump it all, or worse call the cops, (suitcase had no way of being identified to me obviously so I'm good there), so I just pray that he doesn't open it until I get off, or call his friend. I order a cab to Gap from Nice and wait for 15min until the train arrives in Nice. At that point, I rush and ask the address of the guy to the girl (after explaining the suitcase exchange and showing her his), saying i have to catch a train so I don't have time for her to call him. Luckily she knows it and gives it to me and I hop on the preordered cab to Gap. At this point I'm freaking the fuck out."
Reading the story, it might seem like it wasn't bad after all, at least he knows where the guy took off, but I can testify he was completely freaked out, as he pictured different scenarios where the guy already called the cops and he shows up to them...plus surely the friend called him since then and he knows that he's coming. He calls me in the cab, and tbh I had no idea what to tell him, a part from leave the suitcase somewhere before you go to his place in case cops are there.
"I arrived a 1h30 later, around 8pm because of big traffic jams (should fo only taken 45min). I'm in the street and the guy lives in a 3 story building. Of course the floor level isn't him, so I ask for a guy who's taller than me, blond hair and glasses, neighbour seems quite suspicious but tells me that Baptiste lives above him (I realise I could of opened his suitcase and probably gotten his name). I ring his door (his name is on the door) and nobody answers at first, after 5 or 6 times I finally hear him coming. Now this is where it gets crazy. I tell him I have his suitcase that we exchanged by accident. The guy looks odd, and I can start to smell weed on him. He pretends (and it is really obvious, maybe because he's high, he looks very nervous) that something really bad happened, that as he was in the train station he got busted by the cops and that they took what seems to him as weed, but that they let him go because he said it wasn't his. The guy's a complete idiot. So I tell him that it's bullshit, and that I'd like my stuff back. He gets my suitcase, without the weed and keeps swearing on his mother that it's true, and that my weed is gone. Being really exhausted and pissed off, I flip the fuck out and start shouting at him that he better get me my fucking weed back or ill call the cops on him right now and they'll search his house. Guy starts to get scared but won't let go, so I keep shouting that I can see he's high and I can smell weed so I know he's just trying to steal my shit."
My friend his quite physical when it comes to being pissed off, so this is not exaggerated.
"I start to scare him more by knocking his shit over, chairs, stuff on tables and keep shouting that I'm gonna kill him, and that if he's not lying he can go ahead and call the cops to take me away, which he obviously won't do. He finally tells me (after a good 15min) he has it and asks me if he can keep some (it must of been the first time he smoked and must have been a fucking idiot for not realising how fucked he could have been if I had been a legit dealer). So I get my package back (which is now opened, great). Fucking dickhead tells me that if I don't leave him quite a bit he'll call the cops who can id me since he remembers where I was sitting. To shut him up I leave him like 15g. (I'm about to lose it here) Crazy bastard actually asks me to roll one for him before I leave. I go batshit crazy but I just wanna get out of there as fast as possible so I do. Can't believe I'm doing this for someone who tried to steal me. I dunno if the guy's purpose was to get me to kill him, but he tells me that I'm such a bad roller, that i don't know my shit and that he'd be better off with all the weed. That's where I completely lose it. I can't beat up the guy so i just take him against the wall and shout my head off threatening him to come back later with my gang (lol) to burn his place down and rape him. He gets legit scared that time and apologises, tells me that he's never seen me and that it's all good. He still insists on keeping the 10-15g but at that point I'm just so pissed that I just leave with my suitcase. Dunno if you believe in premonitions, but as I go down the stairs I think to myself that all this shouting for like 20mins might have alerted the neighbours, especially that guy who told me where Baptiste lived. I open the hallway door and I hear sirens maybe 2 blocks away. I fucking run to hide in another street a bit further away, and yes, the police car comes straight to the flat, and I see that guy on ground level coming out to talk to them. Of course I run away, take the first cab (pretty damn paranoid, try not to show my face too much) and get to Nice."
Now it could end here, knowing that my friend never had any further problems, but it doesn't. A few days later, my friend's in town (so still Nice) and someone taps his shoulder. The girl. She asks him if he got his suitcase back. "Yeah sure, did your friend not tell you that he did?". She answers that he encountered some serious problems recently and that the suitcase mix up kinda got out of his entourage's mind. My friend asks to know more, and she tells him that when he came back home the police busted him with weed as they came at the request of a neighbour who heard a man shouting for a while. What happened was that Baptiste was very high and got very pissed at a friend on the phone leaving the apartment a mess, and shouting very loud. Friend told her that it was unfortunate, and that when he came by around 7pm he was very calm and happy to find his suitcase. He quickly left and that's it. The guy covered for him probably not to get in more shit. How his story worked out though, we're all unsure, surely the cops checked his phone for past calls, did the neighbour not tell them that my friend was looking for him right around that time? In the end he probably only got a relatively small fine and a night at the police station.
I know I wrote a fucking novel here, but I know people really don't believe this story without the details, so I did my best to tell it as well as possible.
