That free drink could be your last
I love my job as a flight attendant. I travel all over the world, enjoy several days a month in foreign locations and try to take advantage of the perks of my career. I consider myself travel-savvy so I write travel tips, funny and serious. When I get caught doing something foolish, I am usually quick to admit it and I pass along any lessons learned to my readers.
But one time I didn’t. Something happened to me a couple of years back that scared me half to death, and it is only recently that I have come to full terms with the ordeal.
I was in Brazil at a nightclub where a jazz band I liked was scheduled to play. The crew member I’d come with got tired and decided to go back to the hotel. That’s when it happened.
One moment I was drinking and talking with a couple of exchange students, and the next moment I was physically impaired. It was as if everything had switched to slow motion, as if my movements and reactions were grinding to a halt. I have been drunk before, but this was different. I had been drugged. I was in trouble, and I had to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. I staggered outside and tried to flag down a cab, but I could hardly walk straight.
A stranger approached and guided me into an alleyway. I thought he was trying to help me, but no. There were others waiting in the alley. They pushed me to the ground, kicked me a few times and proceeded to check my pockets. All the while, I was helpless. I was unable to defend myself, run or even scream for help. The attackers took my wallet, which contained a little money, one bank card and my driver’s license.
“What’s your bank number?†one of the men shouted at me repeatedly.
I couldn’t tell him. I wasn’t sure of my own name much less my bank code. They kicked me some more. The last thing I remember is my attackers running away. Unable to move, I first wept then passed out.
I awoke very early the next morning to the sound of street cleaners. I looked around and saw that my shoes, wallet and jacket were gone. My side hurt. As crazy as this sounds, I checked to see if my kidneys were still there. I had heard stories about organ thieves in South America, and I had to make sure I was still intact. I tried to flag down a cab, but who was going to pick up a fare with no shoes? Finally a taxi stopped, and I waited until I got to the hotel to tell the cabbie I had no wallet.
I got to my room and slept for the next 20 hours. I had nightmares. When I woke up, I took a two-hour shower.
It was then I decided I wouldn’t tell anyone about my ordeal. I would pretend it had never happened. I was embarrassed, ashamed and haunted by the whole matter, and I didn’t want to share those feelings with anyone. It worked OK at first, but after waking up night after night in a cold sweat, I had to tell my wife. By telling her, the demons slowly retreated and my life gradually returned to normal.
Until a couple of months ago.
That’s when my airline made an announcement about a flight attendant who had been drugged on a layover in Germany with Rohypnol, or “roofies,†a powerful sedative that is also called the “date-rape drug.†The woman had been robbed and sexually assaulted, and she was in the hospital.
My own ordeal came back to haunt me, and I felt guilty for remaining silent. Maybe I could have prevented this woman’s attack by openly telling about mine.
Well, I am speaking up now, to tell everyone that this type of crime is out there and to offer the following advice:
1. Say no to freebies. If you don’t know where the drink came from, decline it.
2. Buddy up. Never leave alone — or be left alone — in a foreign place at night. I knew better. I should have gone back to the hotel with my crew mate.
3. Call the police. They probably won’t catch the perpetrators, but your episode will be logged. Multiple reports may get the justice wheels rolling, especially if the incidents start to hurt tourism.
4. Speak up. Don’t hide your ordeal; tell others. Your misfortune could save them.
5. Go for counseling. If you can’t find mental and emotional relief, seek help. But know that the pain and nightmares might never quite go away.
I recently went out on an experiment. On an international layover, I sent 10 strangers anonymous drinks, and nine of the people drank them. The only one who declined gave it to her friend — and she drank it. Take it from me, this trusting acceptance of free gifts from strangers is more dangerous than you could ever imagine.
This is my therapy, and I feel better by passing the word. It might be a bit late, but if I can prevent just one similar experience, this article will have served its purpose. Take care of yourself out there. Enjoy life. But use some common sense.