RAVING MAD ABOUT TEENS: SO WHAT'S NEW?

Remember when a rave was considered something good? Times aren't just
changing. Apparently, they have already changed.

Today's raves aren't so good. But they're not necessarily all bad, either.

After all, boys will be boys and girls will be girls. In some cases, girls
will be boys and boys will be girls, too. And, in other cases, your guess is
as good as mine.

You used to be a kid. Remember? I can distinctly recall my mother saying
these exact words when I was 16: "I hope you have kids of your own."

I took it as a threat, not a promise of great joy.

I was no angel. My hair alone was enough to make my father pulls his own
out. Parts are a little foggy, but I remember a party at Mark Price's place.
We were 15. His parents were out of town.

Trust me, it was enough to make you sick.

My brother was no angel. When he was out later than he was supposed to be,
mom would pile her pots and pans by the door. It was brilliant ... and noisy
as hell. But not nearly as noisy as when they met in the kitchen the next
morning.

She was, you might say, a raving maniac.

Except for the outright lunacy of face-piercing, I'm not sure the majority
of kids have really changed that much. I was a rebel without a clue, too.

And look how I turned out.

Raves and what to do about them is the hottest topic in town right now.
Saturday night-Sunday morning at the Northlands Sportex, 5,000 young people
attended something called Ascension 2000. It was a light and sound show,
yes, but it turned into a horror show.

At least that's the adult perception. Eight teens collapsed and were taken
to hospital. Organizers say one light pattern triggered seizures. Police say
it was the drug ecstasy. An expert says the media are to blame for whipping
parents into a fear frenzy.

The kids' perception, naturally, is different. They blame all of the above.
Never trust anybody over 30.

I received two e-mails on the subject Tuesday.

"It's a party, man," one 16-year-old boy wrote. "You know how parties are."

Yes, I do. Vaguely. Eight fallen comrades in an army of 5,000 party-goers
would have been acceptable in my day. Even astounding. We often had more
than that when there were only 10 of us.

I'm sure the kids are nodding and the parents are shaking their heads about
now, but I'm not about to pick sides.

The other e-mail came from a frightened 34-year-old mom. I could almost see
the tears forming on my computer screen. "There are drugs at a rave."

Of course there are. There are drugs in gym class. What's important is
whether or not your kid has been taught to stay away from them.

Life would make so much more sense if common sense wasn't so uncommon. If
we're supposed to be the adults, suppose we act like it.

The solution is simple and it's not banning raves altogether. That would
only force them underground, then I can virtually promise dead teenagers.

It starts with parents. What kind of goofball lets their 15-year-old
daughter attend an all-night party?

It ends with promoters and police.

Five thousand people paying an average of $50 for a ticket. That's $250,000.
A bottle of water costs $5. Promoter, in some cases, is just another word
for ripoff artist. That's borderline stealing.

How about spending some of the ridiculous profit on security people. Lots of
them. Station them in the washrooms, around the room and at the front door.
Search patrons like you're actually looking for something. One sign of drugs
and you're out the door ... and into a police van for a ride to a holding
cell.

Your trip, pardon the expression, costs you $100 if you're 18 or older.
Minors simply have to call their parents (or legal guardian, or parole
officer) and they can come down and retrieve them. Wouldn't that make for
some interesting rides home at 5:15 a.m. when you're supposed to be sleeping
over at Josh's house?

The solution certainly isn't covering our eyes and plugging our ears.
Although that's a good idea, too.

My mom is a very smart woman. You know what else she used to say? "The trick
is to keep your kids alive until they turn 21."

Amen to that.