Let Me Tell You About The Time I Think I Was Roofied

Written by Jaime Mac


I went to a work event at a bar where glasses of wine were unlimited. It was dope. I’m not usually a wine-drinker but when it’s free I can surely make an exception.

Let me start off with saying I drank a lot that night. That’s the one detail of this saga that makes me doubt if I was drugged or not. But to be clear, I had eaten—both before and during the party—and I’m no stranger to having a lot to drink. I know when to stop. I don’t leave my drinks unattended. I always have a plan for how to get home if I have too much.

During the party, I remember having four glasses of wine. Ok, yes, that maybe a lot, but I’ve thrown back multiple shots in a row before and not reacted the way I did here. The details are a little fuzzy, but here is how the night went down.

The first three glasses I consumed, I watched the bartender pour. The fourth glass was brought to me by a waitress–that’s the only time I can think that I was possibly drugged. Maybe the glass was pre-poured and someone dropped something in it? I have no idea. I just know what happened after I drank it.

I had just finished my fourth glass when [whatever it was] hit me like a freight train. I was talking to someone—tipsy, but in control—I turned to say goodnight to a friend, and when I turned back to my conversation, it hit me like a brick wall. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t stand up straight. And I definitely couldn’t speak straight. That’s where the memories start to blur.

I made it to the bathroom and got sick—not unusual for me for a night of heavy drinking, but usually I can make it home first. I washed my face and tried to pull myself together. I could barely stand, so I knew I needed to wait a while and try to sober up before trying to leave.

I went back out to the party. A friend got me some water—for which I’ll be forever grateful. And after a few minutes (or an hour? time had no meaning anymore) I went back to the bathroom and got sick again. Twice is not normal for me. Ever. Afterwards I felt so bad I couldn’t wait any longer to go home. I stumbled out of the bathroom and told my friend I had to go home. That’s the last thing I remember.

Let me clarify that I’ve never truly blacked out while drinking; it’s a blessing and a curse. At most I’ve lost a few minutes, but never any extended period of time.

I don’t remember leaving the bar. I don’t remember hailing a cab or giving him my address. The next thing I knew I was sitting in the back of a cab outside of my building. What a goddam miracle. I remember that brief moment when the driver woke me up, but nothing else. I don’t remember paying him, or climbing the steps of my building, or throwing myself in bed.

I woke up twelve hours later when it was already afternoon. I was dehydrated, and definitely hung over.

I googled it and found out Roofies only stay in your blood stream for 12 hours. They were already out of me and there was nothing I could do about the possibility of being drugged the night before.

I count myself as incredibly lucky; I wasn’t assaulted, I wasn’t hurt, I made it home safely. I wonder if because I got so sick so soon after I drank them if that helped lessen the side effects. I have the gene MC1R, which means I require 25% more anesthetic during medical procedures—is that the reason I didn’t black out immediately and completely? If there’s been a study done on the effects of Roofies on people with MC1R, please let me know.

Protect yourselves. Have a plan for how to get home. Make sure someone knows where you are. Have fun, but be safe. And don’t take a drink that you didn’t see poured.

 

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