RAVES MAKE WAVES. SOCIAL MENACE OR KIDS HAVING FUN?

Police, Fans Disagree

Bass beats ricocheted off the Chugach Mountains as dusk slipped into dawn
Sunday at Hunter Creek. Hundreds of ravers hopped and gyrated in the dirt.
An Alaska State Troopers helicopter circled overhead. Possibly as a
response to the chopper, DJ Terminus surveyed the crowd of glow-stick
waving dancers and turned up "Better Off Alone."

"Oracle: A Northern Prophecy" drew more than 1,000 young people for
all-night music, dancing and partying. The event also wound up on Channel
11 News because the nine trooper cruisers idling discreetly in pullouts
along the 8-mile Knik River Road stopped about 100 cars leaving the rave.
With the media attention and trooper surveillance, the party reopened an
age-old debate about when a good time crosses the line into trouble.

Raves - all-night, industrial-music dance parties - arrived in Anchorage
from the Lower 48 less than a decade ago. The parties gained national media
attention because rave culture is closely linked with ecstasy, an illegal
amphetamine-type drug.

Lt. Chuck Feller of the Alaska State Troopers said he doesn't know of any
ecstasy-related arrests in the Valley. The media tends to cover raves
because of underage drinking and tangles with nearby communities.

One nonfatal overdose at the rave required an ambulance, Feller said. The
number of troopers on duty and the number of traffic stops were within
normal range for nights when there are major events at Hunter Creek such as
the bluegrass festivals, according to the trooper. He called the drinking
and drug use at raves an "unacceptable lifestyle."

"Since there is no permitting for raves, the guys who put these things
together don't have any standards. They basically can do what they want,"
he said.

Heather Callesen and two friends, who form Mindset Entertainment, promoted
the event.

"We put our butts in hock to throw the phattest party Anchorage has ever
seen," Callesen said.

The promoters didn't expect a profit but sponsored the event to rejuvenate
a stale party scene, she added, asserting that raves aren't inherently
out-of-control; they just get bad press.

"People are going to do drugs wherever they are. We wanted to give them a
safe place where they can party and stay the night, not drive home."

Despite the few snags, Callesen called the rave a success. Promoters worked
with the Butte Community Council for months and offered people in the
vicinity hotel rooms so the noise wouldn't bother them. Rave-goers also
donated 700 cans of food to Mother Lawrence House, a charitable agency in
Mountain View. (Cans snagged a discount off the $17 ticket price.)

As for safety, promoters hired security. Callesen's mother, an emergency
medical technician, was on hand to take care of overdoses.

The number of troopers was excessive and the television news was
sensationalized, according to Callesen, who reiterated her belief that
media and law enforcement stigmatize ravers because they are young.

"They let bluegrass go on every year, and that's the biggest drug fest.
(This) is the same story as that, just with a variation of the substances."

Eileen Floyd, news director at Channel 11, said the station covered the
rave as it would any event. The station was especially motivated this time
because people have called to complain about past Hunter Creek raves, she
said.

Conflicts aside, the party raved on.

A sign at the entrance read: "No Dogs or Drugs in Concert Area. Alcohol
Must Be Consumed in Beer Garden Only." Employees gave out garbage bags to
discourage littering. A bouncer introduced himself to would-be ruffians.

In the parking lot, groups of young people stood around campfires. A few
passed plastic liquor bottles. In the front seat of a blue sedan, a young
man handed white pills the size of aspirins to some girls behind him. Then
he turned on the windshield wipers and they stared as the wipers swished
back and forth. When he squirted the washer fluid, they all cracked up.

Inside, a couple of concession stands skirted a plywood dance floor filled
with energetic dancers sporting diverse styles from Carhartts and baseball
caps to the flashy faux fur of Los Angeles. Large speakers pounded out
beats. Once in a while a raver ran into nearby brush to puke. Some people
danced from 6:30 p.m. to 8:30 a.m. straight, Callesen said.

But there was no beer garden or "comfort station" staffed with volunteer
nurses, as she had promised. Many people got stoned or drunk in the parking
lot, then went inside. If hurt, ravers were left to their own devices
unless they needed an ambulance.

Generally, people who showed up at Hunter Creek were in their late teens
and early 20s. Shelly Bradley, 19, who works at a bagel shop, pasted a
silver star to her forehead. She came to get a break from the food-service
grind, she said.

"I work six days a week, and when I shut my eyes, all I see is bagels."

On the dance floor, the ravers kicked, spun and rubbed against each other
indiscriminately. The vibe was reminiscent of things hippie: love, youth,
freedom and, for better or worse, drug culture.

The dancers oozed sweat, alcohol, menthol and a sour, oniony smell that
comes from "rolling," or doing ecstasy.

Some dancers wore white painter's masks smeared with Vicks VapoRub and
others sucked pacifiers or lollipops. Candy and pacifiers are part of rave
fashion and don't always indicate drug use, but they can serve the
practical purpose of keeping someone from grinding their teeth, a side
effect of ecstasy. The menthol masks increase skin sensation that is
already enhanced by the drugs.

On the outskirts of the dance floor, in a faux-fur hat, Mike Alering, 18,
said, "This is a scene, a culture, where everyone loves everyone else.
That's what it means to be raving - you love everything."

Online rave magazines splash the raver-jargon acronym PLUR (Peace, Love,
Unity and Respect) across the Internet. It represents the main tenets of
the culture, many 'zines claim. The Hunter Creek rave maintained those
tenets - no fights amid 1,000 people, Callesen pointed out.

Mindset is already planning its next rave: bigger and better organized,
with more security and medical personnel on hand, she added.

"We're just trying to throw a positive, community-oriented event."