RAPE DRUG IS ALL TOO REAL

Most women know the basics when it comes to the icky, bar crawling men who
slither up to the table, make small talk and offer to buy you a drink. The
rules are simple: unless the guy is wearing a hockey mask and wielding a
chainsaw, you can ideally accept the offer, provided you don't let the guy
out of sight to walk up to the bar and buy the drink. If you get the drink
from the waitress, stick with hard-to-infiltrate narrow-necked beer
bottles, never leave your drink unattended on the table, and don't drink
beyond your limit, you should be in good shape to indulge in the wretched,
sweaty, courtship that is the bar scene...right?

For some disgustingly appalling reason, date rape drugs continue to run
rampant. Delivered to numerous unsuspecting women, date-rape drugs are the
pick-up line of choice for cowardly, wretched, pathetic excuses for men.

For International Women's Day, Port-Moody-Westwood-Port Coquitlam MP James
Moore began a national campaign against date-rape drugs. Moore will
recommend a motion that GHB and Rohyphnol be identified in the Criminal
Code under a category called "date-rape drugs," and establish a national
initiative to educate women about the dangers of date-rape drugs and how
they can protect themselves.

But no matter how educated you think you are about the dangers of date-rape
drugs, sometimes even the slightest turn of the head to talk to a friend is
enough.

As a young woman, I was well-aware of the risks associated with date-rape
drugs, and the proper precautions to take to avoid becoming a victim.
However, I was recently at a downtown Vancouver bar celebrating a birthday,
and made the mistake of turning my head for a split second to speak to a
friend. Suddenly, I became one of the countless women slipped a date-rape
drug, but I was lucky enough to avoid becoming a victim.

I had momentarily found myself sitting alone at a table inside the bar, and
two men came and sat down with me. They seemed nice enough and made good
conversation, and shortly after introductions, one of them politely asked
to buy me a beer. I agreed, as the waitress brought the drink directly from
the bar, and placed it in front of me.

Then one of my friends then came up to talk to me, and I made the mistake
of turning my head to speak with her. She left to go the bathroom, and I
continued to consume the beer, not suspecting anything could have gone awry
with me sitting beside my drink, with my hand wrapped around the bottom of
the beer for the most part.

However, upon consuming half the beer, only my third drink of the evening,
I suddenly began to feel extremely dizzy and disoriented, similar to the
feeling one gets after drinking way too much. I began to panic, and
stumbled outside to phone my boyfriend, who immediately came to pick me up.
Luckily, my friends waited with me outside until he got there.

I don't remember much after that, but my boyfriend tells me that once I got
home, I began vomiting excessively. He led me to the bathroom and he said
that I passed out cold, cracking my head on the bathroom floor, forcing him
to shake me until I woke up.

I continued vomiting the rest of the night, not even able to make it to the
bathroom most of the time, most of it ended up in the bedroom on the floor.
I woke up with a pounding headache, easily disoriented and confused.

I spoke with a friend who had been with me that night, and she informed me
that at the bar, in a matter of seconds, I had gone from being completely
normal and coherent to a stumbling, slurring mess. She added that the two
guys who had bought me the drink had left immediately after I had called my
boyfriend.

After doing some research, I came to the conclusion that I, the girl who
was always the one to watch a drink like a hawk when a girlfriend went to
the bathroom, had been slipped a date-rape drug. The girl who had always
prided herself on her independence suddenly felt as though she could no
longer go out to a bar with friends without a watchful boyfriend in tow.

I applaud MP James Moore for his efforts to combat this horrible menace,
and his initiative to spread the word to other women so they don't fall victim.

Because it only takes a turned head and a blink of an eye to transform your
evening out into a nightmare you won't soon forget, no matter who serves
you your drink.