I used to sling drinks at a notoriously sketchy bar in Campustown. In the six months I spent working there, I knew five people who were roofied—including myself. One dead winter weekend, I let two lady coworkers off early and made them drinks. At the end of the bar were a few of the older creepy skeezeball-types you find prowling the college bars in search of impressionable (read: drunk) tail. The girls went to dance and I almost always set any untended drinks behind the bar as good practice. ‘Almost’ being this night.