Today, at work, someone slipped me a Mickey Finn. I dunno what it was that they put into my drink, but it seriously fucked me up. To make matters worse, it was hot inside the club and my job there (aside from occasionally having to kick people out for acting like idiots) is to mark the dances. Y'see, each dance costs $15. The club gets $5 and the dancer keeps $10. In order to keep everyone honest (which is a subjective term when working in a strip club), someone must walk around with a clip board and mark the dances. This is usually done by me. Every night when I get to work I get a "dance sheet", write down the list of names for all the dancers who're working that night and, when I see a girl giving a dance, I put a hash-mark down next to her name. The hash-marks are in groups of five, for easy "accounting." When I am done marking the dances for that song (which lasts 2 minutes-30 seconds), I must go back to the bouncer station and post the dances marked on a computer- quickly.

Anyway... on a Saturday night, with upwards of 200 people in a giant room and the heat turned up because it's fucking cold outside, one's metabolism is likely to be working overtime. While I was making the rounds, leaving the bouncer station (which is where my soda is usually kept) unattended, I presume that someone must have thought that it would be "funny" to drop something into a bouncer's drink and see what would happen. So I, at some point, came back to my post and sipped away because, hey, it was hot in there. About thirty minutes later I started to feel a bit out of sorts- dizzy, uncoordinated, distracted... like being drunk without all the pleasantness of being drunk, certainly none of the adventure. I was finding it increasingly difficult to stand/maintain my balance and I couldn't concentrate for shit.

I told the manager that I needed to go outside for some fresh air, that I thought I might be suffering from the oppressive heat (which is rather abnormal for me, as I rather like it being hot... I'm a thin guy and it's never bothered me before, y'know?). So I went out the front door and sat down to enjoy the cool, fresh air... and promptly passed out. About twenty minutes later I regained consciousness, but was still feeling awfully disoriented. Surprisingly, no one had bothered me the entire time I was passed out on the front doorstep of the strip club. I stumbled back into the club (had to use my head to push the door open because my hands weren't working properly) and it was immediately clear to everyone there that I was seriously fucked.

Two of my fellow bouncers carried me to a "hidden room" in the club and laid me out on a couch which is reserved for... God, I shudder to think what that sofa's been used for, but tonight I'm just glad that it was there for me to rest on. I was unconscious on that couch for nearly two hours before I finally came to, walked (barely) back to the manager's office and announced that I was going home. They advised me to sleep in my truck for a little while first, let the cold fresh air revitalize me and take a little more time to "sleep it off." It was the kind of advice given by someone who'd seen this kind of problem before, carrying with it the voice of experience, and I followed it to the letter.

I slept in my truck, outside where it was 30 degress-F, for another thirty minutes and then felt well enough to drive.

I've never been 'Finned before. And I've been actively drunk once in my entire life. Fuck, I need to find a new line of work.