Member-only story
IT’S MY LIFE
I Was The Victim Of A Roofie
And it was years later when I finally realized it
I was away at school, a freshman at Parsons in NYC studying fashion design and failing my clothing construction class, the most important class of all. I’d made a few friends but was pining away over my boyfriend. That made matters worse. I was pretty sad, and it was apparent with just one look. A prime pigeon for predators.
Eating lunch alone in the cafeteria at Rubin Hall, I met two male NYU students from West Africa. Like Mutt and Jeff, one was tall, lean, and handsome, and the other was short and round. They sat at my table and introduced themselves. Both of them lived two blocks down the street, across from Washington Square Park, at One Fifth Avenue. That’s where I lived, too.
Back in the day, before the now-luxury condo building was immortalized in Candace Bushnell’s novel, One Fifth Avenue was an apartment-slash-hotel-slash-college dorm. It housed rock legend Frank Zappa, Italian actress Melina Mercouri, and students attending NYU and Parsons.
The two young men and I chatted some and then they asked if I smoked marijuana? I perked up. I’d been smoking for only a few months, but it had become one of my favorite things to do. The tall, handsome student said he had some homegrown from…
