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I never thought it could happen to me.
It happened exactly two years ago. I was newly single, I had been arguing with my ex-boyfriend all day, and I just wanted a fun night out with my girlfriends. It was a freezing winter night in Chicago, but I convinced my friend Ellie* to go to a club downtown with me. I wanted an unforgettable night — drinks, dancing, and cute guys. I never anticipated losing consciousness.
An hour after being at the club, an older man in his mid-30s, slightly balding and with the worst dad bod, offered to pay for our second drinks. I had always accepted drinks from men before and never thought twice about it. I was a college student, drinks in Chicago are expensive, and if someone else wanted to pay for a stranger's drink, then I usually saw no harm. I said I'd have a vodka cranberry.
This guy was distinctly different though. After he handed the drinks to Ellie and me, Ellie said thanks and walked away. I felt badly ditching someone so quickly after they paid for my drink, so I thanked him, told him to have a good night, but that I should get back to my friends. Before I left, he said, "Well, whatever you do tonight, trust this," and he pointed to my stomach, touching it with the tip of his finger. "What?" I asked. He said, "Always trust your gut. I hope to see you later tonight." I thought he was just being a creepy dude at a bar trying to pick up girls and I walked away.
I only took a few sips of the drink before the room started spinning. I could no longer form coherent sentences. It was only my second drink of the night, and I hadn't pregamed before going downtown, so I should have been in complete control of my body, but I wasn't. I don't remember a single thing from the rest of the evening.
At 6:30 the next morning, I woke up completely naked and alone in my bed. I immediately knew something was wrong. I felt drunk, high, and as if I were experiencing consciousness for the first time in my life. I had to squint at my phone to get the screen to focus, I didn't know where my clothes were, and I felt completely disoriented in my own apartment. I felt fucked up. I called my friend Ellie to see if she was feeling the same way, and unfortunately, she was. I called my parents, and they urged me to go to the campus hospital, so I went to Ellie's apartment and we walked over together.
The hospital was only a five-minute walk from Ellie's apartment, but it was the longest and most insane walk I have ever been on. The square campus buildings appeared curved and moved in waves when I walked past. I broke out in laughter at the snow on the ground and two minutes later was crying uncontrollably about the sun. It felt like a lethal inebriation; I wasn't sure if I would ever feel normal again.
It felt like a lethal inebriation; I wasn't sure if I would ever feel normal again.
Ellie and I spent three hours in the campus hospital. We answered preliminary questions with a nurse, assuring her that no, we were not just twentysomethings who drank too much and didn't know how to handle our alcohol. After we told her we thought we had been drugged, we were put in separate rooms with IVs in our arms furiously pumping nutrients back into our blood. At this point, I was feeling confused, scared, and nauseous. The doctor insisted on giving us an IV because she said it would replenish some of the nutrients we'd lost due to alcohol and the drugs, and it would hopefully relieve our nausea and disorientation.
Later, the doctor came in with our test results and told me that whoever did this to us used a combination of multiple drugs that wouldn't leave our systems for 72 hours. She then said drugs typically used in cases of sexual assault leave the blood system in 24 hours at most. This meant that whoever drugged us was hoping we would be extremely unconscious and thus less likely to put up a fight. She left the room, I placed my jacket over my face to block the obnoxious fluorescent lighting, and I started crying alone on the hospital bed with the IV still in my arm.
Once we left the hospital, Ellie and I recalled as much as we could from the night before to try to figure out who could have done this to us. I remembered regaining consciousness in a cab back to my apartment, but there were three strangers in the car with me. Normally that would be frightening, but I recalled being doubled over the cab, trying and failing to form words to tell the driver my address, yet luckily these strangers lived in the same neighborhood and somehow made out my street name from my incoherent mumbling. Ellie said she got a cab home with another friend from school.
We racked our brains trying to figure out which creepy strangers we were mutually in contact with that could have done this. Then we remembered the man who'd bought us our second drinks. I guess I'll never know for certain that it was him. Luckily, after talking with friends, they assured me that they didn't see me with this guy the rest of the night and I know that when I got home I was alone because I briefly regained consciousness when I got out of the cab and opened my apartment door.
The next two days were miserable. It was the weekend before MLK Day, and I had never been happier that I didn't have to go to class. I had very little energy and zero appetite because I felt unbearably nauseous. I spent the entire day in bed, curled up in a ball in the dark, crying and wondering why this happened. I called my ex-boyfriend, and within 20 minutes he was at my apartment to take care of me. He called my parents to update them, he refilled my water bottle whenever it got low, and he was there for me, no questions asked. I slowly felt less disoriented and inebriated, but my emotions were swinging from one extreme to the other, and I would alternate between laughing and crying at a moment's notice. I eventually had to go to the library to get work done that Monday, but my body was so weak that I felt like a limp zombie trying to find the energy to move.
My parents had always warned me about this happening, but I thought I was an invincible twentysomething and that it could never happen to me. Getting drugged was the worst experience of my life, but knowing how horrible it was makes me never want to experience it again.
Even though this happened two years ago, I think about it every single time I got out to a club, or a bar, or really anywhere with alcohol and strangers. In a way, I'm thankful that I'm now more aware of my surroundings and the possibility of someone slipping a drug into my drink. I still accept drinks from strangers because I don't think accepting or denying drinks will affect the likelihood of this happening again. However, I make more mental notes of my surroundings and who I'm interacting with; I walk around with my hand on top of my drink to cover it; I check in more with friends and make sure we're always accounted for.
Just the other day, my ex called me and told me that a woman in his law program had been drugged at a bar the night before, which brought back a flood of unwanted, chilling memories. I used to be ashamed of what happened to me. At first, I questioned if I could have done something differently, if I could have been more observant. Hell, I even questioned if I brought it on myself because of what I was wearing. Now, two years later, it feels good to talk about it and to share my story in hopes that it won't happen to others.
Even if this has never happened to you, it's so important to be hyperaware of what's going on around you. I got lucky that I somehow made it home alone and relatively safely, but for many others, the outcome is much worse. You may feel silly walking around a bar with your hand on top of your drink, or making the person who bought your drink take a sip of it first, or asking a friend to cover your drink while you go to the bathroom, but these little precautions could make all the difference. I learned about it the hard way but I hope you'll never have to.

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sex workers

11/1/18

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A tourist has lifted the lid on a debauched sex island vacation where Brits and Americans party with Colombian hookers and use experimental drugs.
After the controversial vacation caused an outcry in Colombia when it was first publicized in 2017 , the organizers moved the trip to a “drug-friendly” Caribbean island in December.
And the decadent four-day event is returning this year and once again promises unlimited drugs and orgies for sex tourists willing to pay nearly $6,000 for a “golden” ticket.
The Sun Online spoke exclusively to one of last year’s guests who revealed that every customer chooses two girls who spend the entire holiday granting their every sexual desire.
Ryan, 33, a dentist from New York, revealed how the orgies began just minutes after the 30 guests boarded a luxury yacht taking them and 60 hookers to the private tropical island.
The married father-of-two also told how drugs and sexual stimulants were freely available and how every man was allowed an hour with 15 girls all at once.
He also revealed that a fellow guest was a “very famous Canadian pop star” who he immediately recognized.
Ryan, who told his wife he was going on a work trip, said: “I read a story about Sex Island in a New York newspaper and said, ‘Wow, I need to do that.’
“After I paid the money they sent me a golden ticket with my name on it.
“There were 30 of us altogether, all men except for one couple. Most were professional guys, doctors, lawyers, aged between 25 and 50. Half of them were married.
“There were some nerds from Silicon Valley who had never done this kind of thing before and were nervous at the beginning.
“There were two Brits, a businessman and a lawyer. There were Australians and Canadians, and a lot of Americans.
“There were two big pop stars from Canada. I immediately recognized one of them, he’s very famous and it quite took me back.
“The other is his friend and although I didn’t know who he was I later saw on the internet that he is pretty big too.”
The debauchery began as soon as the group stepped foot on the luxury boat , Ryan claims.
He said: “The yacht was full of beautiful Latina women, dancing and drinking. As we got on we were handed drinks and people started to loosen up.
“Each man had to choose the two girls who would keep them company during the entire trip.
“Just 15 minutes into the trip I was already on a bed with them.
“All the other men were happy with their girls, except one who had arrived last and wanted a skinny girl and began to complain that his was too curvy.
“They quickly got rid of the girl he’d been left with and found another girl of the type he wanted.”
Once on the island, the guests were taken with their two hookers to their rooms in a luxury five-star hotel.
He said: “The resort was very impressive, really like a tropical paradise.
“There was a buffet restaurant with unlimited food, a golf course and tennis courts, as well as the beach.
“But of course the men were all just interested in one thing.
“Some of them didn’t sleep for the whole four days, they just stayed awake night and day to make the most of their two girls.
“If you got tired of the same girl, you could do a deal with another guest and do a swap.”
Ryan said he was happy with his girls although they “didn’t speak English, just the basic.”
He said that “drugs were available all the time” adding “there were lots of drugs, pills, poppers, cocaine and all the big ones.”
“There were some others I’d never heard of before, like one they called ’toothy,’ it’s pink and you sniff it, it really gets you excited and makes you want to have sex.”
The New Yorker said his most memorable moment was an activity called “All In,” which is a one-off experience where each guest can sleep with 15 girls in his room all at once.
He said: “It was the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I never wanted that hour to end.”
Other activities included topless salsa dancing, skinny dipping from the yacht, and an evening disco in the island’s mansion where the girls danced naked, Ryan claims.
Ryan also said the two Canadian singers performed a show on one of the evenings, which he said was “a huge surprise.”
He said: “That was a big thing. Nobody expected that at all. They both had two girls each and we thought they were there just for that. They said they are coming back this year too.”
The sex-mad New Yorker said he hooked up with his hookers everywhere including “in the restaurant, beside the swimming pool, on the yacht and on the golf course.”
He continued: “The staff at the resort were friendly, they saw some debauched things and had to clean up a lot of mess but were still polite.”
The couple of swingers provided the holiday’s main talking point, Ryan said.
He said: “The wife got really jealous and they had a lot of fights, they were always shouting and fighting.
“Some of the men wanted to sleep with her, and even offered money to the guy.
“In the end, they had a huge orgy in their room with three other men and their girls.”
Ryan said he was one of 10 men who paid an extra $6,000 to stay an extra three days on the island but he claims he was so drugged up he remembers little of what happened for the second half of his trip.
He says he has already paid for his ticket to this year’s event starting on Dec. 14, when he will tell his wife he needs to travel for work again.
Ryan said: “I remember getting back to work on the next day and being desperate to tell someone what had happened, but I couldn’t mention it to anyone in case they told my wife.
“The only person I have told is my brother, who hopes to go on the next one with me. He’s just working out what to tell his own wife.”

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