What It’s Like Being Roofied

What It’s Like to Be Roofied

It’s amazing to me how many storylines in shows – especially teen shows include women being roofied. Is it really all that common? A 2016 article from NBC news, Drink Spiking at College May be More Common than Thought, has some numbers. Researchers surveyed over 6,000 students from 3 American universities and 8% responded that they thought they had been roofied and 1% admitted to slipping drugs into someone else’s drinks. There are about 595,000 university students in NYC alone. That means an estimated 47,000 have been roofied. In one city alone. No wonder it's such a prevalent trope in teen shows. Chances are as you’re reading this, you know someone who has been roofied. And if you don’t, now you do.

Because I’ve been roofied.  

I was 22 years old and it was my first year in the City. Thanks to my first New York friend, Momo who had been a gogo dancer in her teen years and was now a manager for other dancers, I was able to get into the coolest clubs, hang out in the green rooms with the talent, and got to go backstage. It was an amazing life and I was living it. 

On a night that one of my female rappers, Kreayshawn was playing at a venue, an artist I had loved for years, Momo and I got tickets. Just before the concert started, I ordered a glass of wine while we stood on the top level of the venue. The energy in the place crackled as we waited for her opener to come on stage. The room began to buzz, and I knew that meant the show was going to start soon, so I downed my drink and made my way to the dance floor and into the crowd.

There were hundreds of people, so I wasn’t surprised that it was hot, but I was surprised when I started to feel dizzy. That was unusual for me. This wasn’t my first concert and it wasn’t my first big crowd. Despite me desperately wanting to see Kreayshawn who was coming on next, and despite me having an amazing spot right in the front row, I knew I had to leave; I needed to go to the bathroom. I was sick. 

Pushing my way through the crowd, I wasn’t able to see straight and it felt like I had two left feet. Something wasn’t right. There were a few people in the crowd that could tell I wasn’t doing well, and they helped me along toward the bathroom. 

As soon as I made it to the bathroom, I practically fell into a stall and began to vomit violently. I had only had one drink – that glass of wine. This wasn’t normal behaviour for one glass of wine. My body was rejecting something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was - truthfully I just couldn’t think. Not that I couldn’t even think straight, I just couldn’t think. I could barely see, and my brain was a fog. 

I was finally able to stand up, though not without difficulty and I splashed water on my face. I had barely left the bathroom when a bouncer wrapped his huge hand around my upper arm, dragged me across the venue floor and pushed me outside. He pointed to a bus bench a few feet away and threw a bottle of water at me. What had I done wrong? I wasn’t drunk! He wasn’t evicting a basic drunk bitch. It was 7:30, and the headliner hadn’t even stepped foot on the stage. Why was his first thought drunk and disorderly and not there’s a girl who obviously needs assistance.

I don’t remember anything else of that night. I got home safely thanks to some of Momo’s friends. By some New York City luck, they saw me nearly passed out on a bus bench, recognized me from Momo’s Instagram and frantically began to call her while she had been looking for me in the venue. I had called my roommates over 20 times trying to get a hold of anyone in my life. 

I was lucky. I was lucky in that I didn’t have to deal with additional assault on top of the obvious initial attack. I don’t have lasting physical damage. What I have now is a sense of fear, vulnerability and an overabundance of caution. I fear for all the men and women in my life because I know how common it is and how easy it can happen.

But what really sucks was that bouncer’s assumption that I was drunk and needed to be dealt with as a drunk (which, being manhandled by him was also not an appropriate way to deal with me even if I was drunk). That’s the shitty thing about being roofied. It makes the victim look like they’re “just” drunk, so it’s difficult to ensure people are getting the support they need.

People, recognize the signs of being roofied. Stay aware of your surroundings, but know that if you get roofied it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault someone decided to assault you like that. 1% of 595,000 is almost 6,000. That’s 6,000 college-aged people who have put drugs in someone’s drink without them knowing it. 

After six cab attempts to get me to Momo’s house just three blocks away I finally was at her home and safe. While she went backstage and then spent the rest of the night hanging out with Diplo and friends.

Take care of yourself out there, and Diplo, if you’re reading this, I missed my chance to hang with you back in my 20s. How’s about a ticket this year?

I talk about this and other life-changing experiences in my upcoming memoir And I’m Only 30. Subscribe now to learn more!