It was the holiday people either loved or hated: Valentine’s Day.
It was a few years back and I was happily single. I did not want to seek out a date for the holiday since I knew it would just be pointless. I only celebrate it if I am in a relationship; that’s just me, though. Well, my good friend got a hold of me on the day of Valentine’s Day to see if I had any plans for the evening. He himself was not doing anything and all his friends were busy with their partners.
Jokingly we decided to go out, to go grab a few drinks from a local bar, and catch up. It had been awhile since he and I hung out so I was pretty thrilled not to spend the evening alone.
We picked a bar that was known to have an older crowd; both of us were not the college bar kind of people. I like quiet peaceful bars, I don’t like to have to shout my drink order or scream to my friend that is next me, or have people bumping into me left and right. I like my peace and quiet.
We placed our drink orders and played some pool and darts, happily chatting away about what each other had been up to. It was great time; it would have been considered the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had if some creep didn’t mess it up.
While I ordered a Long Island, because at that time of my life I had not learned my lesson with them, he just had the normal whiskey with coke. I had finished mine first and was itching to have a smoke. Leaving my empty glass on the table, I informed my friend I would be stepping out for a few seconds. He wanted to join me, even though he was only halfway finished with his first drink. I told him he should probably finish it or sneak it out with him since it wasn’t a good idea to leave a drink alone in a bar. He insisted it would be fine and followed after me, leaving his drink alone on the table.
When we were finished with our smokes, I made my way back to the bar to order another drink while he went to pool table to set up the next game. He finished his drink, and all seemed fine for a bit until he started swaying and slurring his words. It wasn’t long before I caught on to what had happened. Someone had roofied his drink when we had stepped outside. My friend was not even close to a lightweight; he wasn’t an alcoholic, but he could handle half a bottle of whisky just fine, so one drink wouldn't have done this to him. It was as though he was completely hammered, I knew otherwise and knew that something had happened.
Thankfully I was able to lead him back to the car and drive him back to his place. During the car ride his words became even more slurred, and by the time I parked in front of his house he was out cold. Dragging him was the hardest part; he wasn’t fat but he was all dead weight. If anyone was looking it would look like I was trying to drag a dead body inside. Thankfully no one saw. I really did not want to have to deal with cops, and have to tell them that I didn't kill anyone, or roofie them.
I stayed the whole night; I stayed awake and watched him as he was out cold. Many hours later when he finally woke, the couch got a nice cover of puke. He didn’t know what had happened; he said the last thing he remembered was me getting him into the car. I had told him someone must have slipped something in his drink because he only had glass of whisky.
To this day, we still don’t know if whoever roofied the drink was after me or him.
A warning to the women and men reading: Please be carful when going out drinking!