Rave parties are the latest rage, the 60’s rock festivals transplanted to the turn-of- the-century dance celebration. Ravers are typically mid-teen to late twenties oriented. The gatherings are usually large, sometimes running into the thousands. These dance music marathons can be fun, exciting and, if you are irresponsible, deadly.
My name is Rhonda Morgan. The first time I met Tom was 2:30 on a Sunday morning. It was at a rave party and most of the teenage dancers were not supposed to be there. Parents don’t understand these things. They get too caught up in the adverse publicity and notoriety of these rather clandestine, all night events. Because of my job, I attend regularly and enjoy the atmosphere, the music and the dancing. The mood of the rave is as much the music, with its throbbing bass beat, as it is the laser lights and the other-worldly look of streaking glow sticks.
When this assignment began, I considered it the dream job because I love to dance and no one can out dance me. Until Tom, that is. He kept right up with me until finally, I gave in panting and sweating and collapsed in exhaustion on one of the hard wood benches that lined the perimeter of the old warehouse. The place was jammed with mostly young teenagers. Tom looked to be in his late teens. He wore a reversed baseball cap, torn, purple tank top, crimson shades and sported a red-ringed baby pacifier in his mouth.
Now, I happen to be slightly past the teenage era of my life, but I still dig the rave scene. I admit to some prejudice, however, because as an undercover operator for the vice squad, it is necessary for me to be present at many rave parties as well as rock concerts. The difference between the two can be startling to a novice and I found out quickly that you can’t judge a party by its name. Basically, I keep an eye out for overt trafficking in illicit drugs, especially rave drugs like MDMA an amphetamine-like drug, known as ecstasy or ÔE’. Let me hasten to add that this stimulant is found not only at raves but at popular night clubs, concerts and private parties. The unfortunate down side is that trafficking in ecstasy and other rave drugs is epidemic. Some of the really dirty stuff out there is; GHP (gamma hydroxy- butyric acid, the so-called rape drug, Ketamine, an animal tranquilizer, known as Special K and the highly addictive, crystal methamphetamine, a type of speed known as Ôice’ These drugs are extremely dangerous and their increasing use is particularly worrisome.
As the youngest member of our department at the academy, I was always kidded about my rave mania. In fact, that was what opened the door for me to be part of
these recent surveillances. What I have found is that most ravers are normal people who never fight at the dances and, most importantly, they respect one another. No wide-eyed, drug-crazed fiend will attack you on the dance floor and rip your dress off. Ravers are quite sedate as a group. They are very much like the love children of the 60’s with one very noticeable difference – they come alive while dancing. Another anomaly is that they use and wear clothes in fun ways rather than to be sexy or provocative. So, it is not unusual to see ravers with hooded jackets wearing the hood or with bright primary-coloured outfits that are comfortable. Sneakers are the regulation footwear.
I had my eyes on Tom as soon as I noticed him quickly making the rounds of the regular 2-bit suppliers. I made it my business to “bump” into him on the floor and flash him my brightest smile. It worked! It always did! For the next hour or so, with only quick interruptions for gulping down cool bottled water, we were manic in our dance determination.
“Man, you’re totally cool,” he shouted. The sound came out of his mouth but, with the decibel rating of the music from the monstrous speakers, strategically located around the floor, I couldn’t hear what he said. I read his lips and grinned. The perspiration ran in rivulets down his cheeks from his matted, dark hair. He raised his eyebrows over the crimson specs and, with his index finger pointing in the direction of the main entrance, stabbed the air with two staccato-like movements.
Then he held out his hand which I grasped and he pulled me after him. We pushed past the enforcers at the entrance and into the street. The outside air hit us like a blizzard in July. Actually, the outside temperature was mild. The shock was caused by the change from the inside of the over heated warehouse. The mass of jumping bodies plus the laser and spot lights, not to mention the cigarette smoke thick as a London fog, had sent the inside temperature soaring.
“I’m glad I don’t smoke,” I said, my voice an octave higher than I intended. I adjusted my octave level down and added, “I think I just smoked a pack of someone else’s cigarettes.”
Tom chuckled as he leaned his head back against the warehouse’s brick wall. “What we need is some of this fresh air.” He turned his face sideways to look at me and his new-growth mustache glistened with beads of perspiration. His ever-present pacifier hung crookedly from his neck. It was held by hardware store wrapping string. He peeled off his spectacles and wiped both eyes with the bottom of his tank top. His eyes told me that he was high. “Let’s grab something cool to drink at the chill section if we can find it in that maze in there. Do you mind?” He added, “and you know it won’t be over till dawns early light. I should have been in bed hours ago. Guess I’m all dosed out on my favourite colour.”
“And what colour might that be?” I asked casually. “Blue? Green? Yellow or Pink?”
“All of the above,” he answered. “But don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a death wish. I’ll never be a statistic. I love life too much. And music. And dancing. And crazy rave clothes. I make sure I don’t get dehydrated and I don’t do dirt. You dance with energy,” he said, jumping to another topic, “In fact, you remind me of myself a lot in that regard. Guess we’re both dance freaks. Personally, I love dancing the dawn in. How about you?”
“Same. We are freaks. Dancing fools, if you like. Some might even suggest we’re maniacs. I find it’s a release from stuff I’ve bottled up inside.”
Tom agreed. “At the shop I work at, we get the weirdest customers. It’s tough to keep your cool when they ask such silly or redundant questions. Like this morning, or I guess yesterday morning, a customer poked his head in the door, past the closed sign, and asked if we were open. That sort of thing. Is that crazy or what?”
“Not crazy. Just normal, in a stupid way,” I answered.
“Whatever. This is my escape from the real world for a few hours. I don’t have to worry about nagging parents, teachers, homework or the crazy part-time job. Just relax and dance my little heart out.”
We had been sitting in the chill section, an area for time out to catch your breath or get a drink. I had a cardboard carton that I was using as a make-shift chair while Tom sat on the old wood floor. Even in this so-called oasis from the dance floor, the heat was stifling.
“Powder room for me,” I said excusing myself. “I hope the line up is less than twenty. Facility convenience is not a priority at these parties.”
“I’ll be on the floor doing my thing,” Tom replied. “See if you can catch up to me.” I watched him as he made his way into the seething mass of bodies. Uni-dancing is very rave. I like that too, I thought. One can be so independent. I turned towards the washrooms and was stunned to see the long line of teenage girls waiting. It’s not fair, I thought as I took my place at the end of the line that, because of a minor plumbing difference, women should be subjected to such inconvenience. After a lengthy wait that I defy any male to accept without complaint, I reemerged into the dance area. The heat seemed to have increased. My own thin tee top was transparent with perspiration, generating innumerable male stares. I gazed over the jumping, weaving and hand-waving dancers. The laser lights crisscrossed the floor and the bass beat drummed into my head.
Then I saw a commotion to the right at the far end of the warehouse. Instinctively, I pushed my way in that direction, looking around for my backup who seemed to have disappeared. The music continued and I finally reached the suddenly immobile group at the centre of the disturbance. They parted as my backup partner, coming out of nowhere, grabbed my arm .
“Ronnie, we got trouble,” he hissed into my ear. “Some kid just collapsed on the floor. Dehydration, I think. Check it out. I’ll radio for an ambulance, but I don’t want to blow my cover. I’ll be close by.”
I nodded quickly, not looking directly at him and continued through the startled now milling dancers. In the centre of a small group, flat on his back and looking grotesquely pale, was Tom. His eyes were rolling and trying to focus. A girl nearby was sobbing uncontrollably. A young man was on his knees offering Tom water. I dropped to my knees beside him and roughly grabbed the bottle from his hand. Tom was mumbling and trying to get up. His hands and arms reached out for assistance, pawing at the air, as if he were trying to grasp something for support.
“Easy does it,” I said as soothingly as I could. The music had stopped and an eerie quiet had descended, making my voice seem louder than it was. Incongruously, the lasers beams continued their pointless display. I poured water into my palm and applied it alternately to his forehead and then his lips. “An ambulance is on its way,” I added, hoping to comfort him. “Don’t try to get up.” His arms dropped to his side and he smiled wanly. Now his complexion took on a deep pink tone. I was becoming alarmed and desperate for the ambulance to arrive. I looked around at the crowd and saw my backup. He made a curt nod and I relaxed knowing, that help was on its way.
Moments later, the paramedics arrived and Tom was taken quickly to hospital. The music started and the party continued. I, for once, was partied out. This was not the first time I had experienced such a situation while on duty. The previous had been the death of another young man of a drug overdose plus complications. He was a healthy young man of 19 but he was now very dead. Luckily for Tom, he would recover. But I thought how ironic that he, who boasted about knowing how to cope with the rave scene, was still humbled by it. Rave drugs plus dancing can induce exaggerated body heat which can cause the kidneys and liver to shut down. The combination of rave drugs and dehydration can be lethal and the heartbreak of family and loved ones inconsolable.
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