Woman Buys a Box of Tampons, Discovers They Come with Free Cocaine

Illustration for article titled Woman Buys a Box of Tampons, Discovers They Come with Free Cocaine

Boxes of tampons aren't usually like Cracker Jacks, where you expect to find a prize inside. But one woman in Utah recently discovered that her tampons came with an added bonus of some free cocaine. Anybody ready for a period party? Umm, yeah, not so much. Anyway, after purchasing a sealed box of tampons at a local salvage store in Salt Lake City, Cindy Davidson opened it and saw that some of the tampons inside had been altered. Specifically, they'd taken out the tampon and packed the applicator with a white powdery substance wrapped in cellophane. The cellophane was so tightly taped that Cindy couldn't get it open and didn't know what was inside. She was going to wait until the next day to call the manufacturer, but then she thought better of it: "I started getting nervous because I thought it might have been a terrorist attack." Attack of the terrorist tampon!

Advertisement

She called the police instead, who sent a hazmat team. They quickly determined that they were dealing with good old-fashioned cocaine, which some clever smuggler had clearly been trying to move. Somewhere the plan must have gotten off track, because his product ended up in Cindy's house instead. The police are investigating, and the store has pulled the rest of the brand's boxes from the shelf. Cindy still can't quite believe this happened to her. She said, "I really couldn't wrap my head around it. … It was just crazy to me." As crazy as it is, it could have been a lot crazier, like if she hadn't noticed the applicator was chock full of coke BEFORE inserting it into her body.

Woman buys tampons stuffed with cocaine at local store [KSL via Consumerist]

Share This Story

Get our newsletter

DISCUSSION

ASmallTurnip
A Small Turnip

One of the most surreal moments of my life happened two years ago after getting off a flight to Boston. I was visiting my parents who have a summer cottage in Maine, and as I unpacked very, very late that night, I opened my suitcase and found AN ENORMOUS FUCKING PACKAGE OF WHITE POWDER zipped into one of the internal pockets. At least a kilo. I couldn't even register what I was looking at for a minute. I just knelt there, mouth agape in moronic befuddlement.

I picked it up—so gingerly—and walked dazedly into my parents' bedroom and flapped my lips at them until sounds came out. "Do you think it's cocaine?," asked my dad, boggle-eyed. "Do...do we taste it? In the movies somebody always tastes it. What does coke taste like, A?" "ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?," I said. "I HAVEN'T THE FAINTEST FUCKING CLUE. WE'RE NOT TASTING IT." "Yeah," said Dad, vaguely. "That's probably a really bad idea."

So we put the package on the coffee table and stood around looking at it and giggling hysterically. Eventually someone put it in a ziploc bag and stuck it in the freezer (I have no idea why. We were all incoherent with fatigue, and it seemed like a safe place for it at the time. In our defense, we are also really, really dumb.) Then we ran around double-locking all the doors and windows and pulling curtains because shit, we'd seen the movies. We knew we were the poor fucking family that gets accidentally pulled into the sordid world of international drug trafficking and is brutally murdered along with their chocolate labrador before the opening credits. Fuck. Fuck.

The next morning, we woke up really happy to be not dead. I called our local sheriff and explained the whole horrifying story, and he drove over to the cottage pronto. He took a statement from me, and told me that apparently Boston's becoming a significant hub for the drug trade. He cheerfully observed that I was unbelievably lucky not to have been caught coming through customs with it, because trying to explain to DEA officials that the kilo of coke in your suitcase isn't actually yours is a really crappy way to spend an evening. Then he smiled genially, picked up the package and told us to have a real good day.

Never found out what it was, who it belonged to, or what happened to it. But I'm glad I'm not dead. Or in prison. Or, as Dad sagely pointed out, the opening set-piece in a really terrible Johnny Depp flick. Life could be so much worse.