Drugged, Kidnapped & (almost) Sold into Slavery

Part 3: Drugged & Kidnapped

1991, Saigon. This is Part 3 of a three-part series: Drugged, Kidnapped & (almost) Sold into Slavery. Read Part 1: 24 and Alone and Part 2: The Brothel.

Part 3: Drugged & Kidnapped

The next day, at the appointed hour, my escorts arrived, the same guy and gal who took me to the brothel. Once again, I climbed onto the back of the scooter. I was definitely apprehensive, but I thought it would be rude not to attend a party that was being held in my honor.

So I went. Besides, everything had worked out OK the day before, so I thought I’d go, leave early, and be on my merry way.

Alas, we did not go to the BBQ. In fact, there was no BBQ. And we didn’t go back to the housing block. Instead, my escorts took me to a deserted café.

So the three of us walked into a courtyard and sat at a table with an umbrella. There were no other patrons at the café. Café being a loose description of the place, more like an outdoor garden with some seating.

Soon, a “waiter” brought us 3 glasses of iced tea. We didn’t order. He simply arrived with the 3 glasses. I told them I didn’t want iced tea, but they persisted.

I see the girl take out a packet of “sugar” and slip it into my drink while our scooter driver tries to distract me. I got a decent look, though, and that packet of white substance was not sugar. It looked too powdery and wasn’t in the normal packaging.

At this point, I’m starting to be really afraid. My companions / captors keep insisting that I drink my iced tea, which I pretend to do.

After a few more pretend sips, I got up and walked back to the parking lot, leaving my drink on the table. I politely ask them to take me back to the hotel.

Now, you may be wondering why I didn’t just leave. In my own defense, I had no idea where we were, didn’t speak the language, and we were out of the city proper, so there weren’t any cyclos around to hire.

I felt stuck. I reluctantly got back on the scooter for the return trip. Of course, they didn’t take me back to the hotel as promised.

A main street in Saigon, 1991, with mostly bikes, some scooters, very few cars.

Instead, they take me to another establishment — a low brick building with lots of cars and scooters outside in the parking lot. The fact that there were so many cars was unusual and slightly alarming, since an average Vietnamese worker wouldn’t have the means to buy a car in the early 1990s. There were rich people inside.

The three of us go into the establishment. It looks like a restaurant, but it’s completely dark. We asked to sit down, and the waiters removed a few chairs from the top of a booth for us. Obviously, no one was expecting us.

I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t good. There was a lot of commotion, and it was still very dark inside. The proprietor was extremely angry for some reason and was yelling at us.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked up at the walls and saw all kinds of pornographic photos hanging there. Oh no!

I then notice something happening in a back room. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking at, but I could see that there were bright lights and loud music and more voices.

RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn’t hesitate. I jumped over the back of the booth and ran out the door as fast as I could. I wanted to get to the parking lot and the safety of daylight. I was chased by my escorts and the restaurant manager, who was now screaming obscenities at me at the top of his lungs.

I was disoriented. And my fear really kicked in. I began to create my own commotion in the parking lot, yelling and running around frantically looking for a way out.

My hysterics were attracting attention, which the restaurateur really didn’t like. He then vehemently flips off my escorts and me, yells a final fuck you, and is gone.

So – get this – I got back on the scooter. I know, I know, my own stupidity boggles the mind. I truly frighten myself.

The 3 of us get back on the scooter, and still they don’t take me back to the hotel as promised. At this point, I’m pretty much a wreck. I don’t know or have trust in what they’ll do.

Instead of taking me to my hotel, they took me to an art gallery. They said they wanted to buy me a present to show there were no hard feelings.

In the art shop, they kept pointing at a painting of a reclining girl, while I insisted on a truly horrendous painting of a water buffalo floating on a lavender background.

Finally, water buffalo painting in hand, they took me back to the hotel and dropped me off. I return to my room, finally safe but shaking at my near-miss life of sexual slavery. After this escapade, I was definitely a year older.

Happy birthday to me. 🦋

This is Part 3 of the 3-part series: Drugged, Kidnapped & (almost) Sold into Slavery. Read Part 1: 24 and Alone and Part 2: The Brothel

Author note: I’m keenly aware that while I had a brush with sex trafficking, I was not sold into slavery like the women I saw in the brothel and the women in the back room of the restaurant. Their faces and situation continue to haunt me.

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Christened “Wander Woman” by National Geographic, Erin Michelson has traveled to 130+ countries & all 7 continents. She is a professional speaker and author of the Nomad Life™ series of curated trips and travel guides, including the #1-ranked “Explore the World with Nomads.”

Want to read more about my adventures? Get the book “Adventures of a Nomad: 30 Inspirational Stories.”