I've read about so-called “date rape” drugs. What I hadn't read was that there are other criminal uses for them. This is a cautionary tale for everyone - women aren't the only victims of the purveyors of these substances.
Last night is a bit hazy in my mind this morning.
My daughter's stoner friend came by looking for Patty, who was at work. So I asked him for a ride downtown, and didn't have to walk. I was very early for music, so I went by Dempseys, thinking I'd pass some time talking to Mandy.
Mandy wasn't tending bar, the dorky kid was bartender. I got a beer and watched “Cops” or some other equally inane government propaganda. I sipped the beer slowly, and gulped water.
Boring. I was the only patron in the bar. I finished the beer and walked next door to the next bar, and ordered a coffee. They sold me a very small coffee for a dollar. I felt cheated.
I walked down to Marley's. At least there was a small crowd there, and music was playing. It played so softly it was hard to hear over the din of the bar; it was some ancient crooner, maybe Frank Sinatra.
I sipped another beer and drank more water. The music and the buzz of the crowd were making me drowsy, not to mention I was getting damned bored. They had no coffee at Marley's, so I walked down to Bread Stretchers for more coffee, and brought it back to Marleys.
Coffee, water, and beer.
The band started setting up, and I bought a CD from them for ten bucks, the “Oohs.”
They played, and they were good. I started having a pretty good time, even if I was alone. Another beer or two and the restroom called. I walked back to answer my bladder.
There was a cute, thin young black woman sitting by herself at a table way back in the back of the bar. I smiled at her. I smile at everybody. It's one of the nicer effects of Paxil.
She smiled hugely and got starry eyed. She stood up, and her nipples popped out, seeming to try to rip their way through her sweater. She put her arm around my neck and whispered, “wanna fuck?”
I sat down and grinned. “You're a policewoman trying to bust me on a prostitution sting, aren't you?”
She laughed hugely. “No, baby, I ain't gonna charge you no damned money. You can buy me a beer though.” I laughed. I was looking for blondes, and here was the polar opposite. Ginger was her name.
I went to the rest room, then got her a beer and a new one for me. The Paxil cartoon started - she became a crow from Fritz the Cat, only for a few seconds. I asked the bartender for more water.
And then I was outside, walking down the street with her, and didn't remember leaving the bar. And then she was gone and I was home, and I don't know how that happened, either. As I sat at the kitchen table trying to figure it out, it occurred to me that how I felt wasn't like booze normally made me feel.
And my money and CD were gone.