VIBE DIFFERS AT LEGAL VS. ILLEGAL PARTIES

This is the final installment of a three-part series in which a reporter and
photographer followed teenagers to two Bay Area raves. Teenagers spoke
freely on condition their names not be used. Both staff members identified
themselves to organizers and partygoers, and were universally given
permission to share the rave experience - Editor.

A 24-year-old raver peeks from her perch atop a storage case shoved
underneath a rickety wooden staircase.

The compact, apple-cheeked San Jose resident is dressed as Tigger from
Winnie the Pooh in a fuzzy orange suit complete with stripes and a tail.

Wiping away thin beads of sweat that have collected on her face,
"X-citeable" - the name she goes by at parties - explains why she's drawn to
this scene.

"I finally feel like I fit in somewhere," says the South Carolina native,
her words coated with a lilting southern drawl.

She's been traveling the Bay Area rave circuit with her boyfriend, "Adi,"
since February. Tonight she's in Oakland, attending Fantasy 2000, an
illegal, underground rave in a converted warehouse downtown.

In a week, she'll be partying at a legal rave in San Francisco's Maritime
Hall. Both venues, she says, offer a spirit she can't find at clubs or bars.

"I know what's out there. For me this is sacred. Everybody's respectful and
they're here for the music. You're not going to find that in a club."

X-citeable works as a free-lance journalist, while Adi deals Ecstasy - a
designer drug that releases serotonin from the brain and produces a
feel-good sensation in users. Some research indicates the popular rave drug
could cause permanent brain damage.

The tender age of ravers around X-citeable - many are under 18 years old -
troubles her.

"When I was 13, I was still in my room coloring in my coloring books," she
says.

From San Jose to Sacramento, cities throughout Northern California are
cracking down on raves.

Cal Expo officials in Sacramento permanently banned raves from their venue
in December after five people overdosed on drugs and a security guard was
attacked at a 6,000-person event.

The city of Vallejo issued a temporary restraining order against a promoter
for holding raves at the Vallejo Performing Arts Center, where drugs were
allegedly being bought, sold and consumed.

Most major venues in Oakland and San Francisco have also been declared
off-limits for raves.

Rave supporters say an ever-shrinking number of venues and stiffer
regulations are driving ravers further underground to parties in overcrowded
facilities without permits.

At illegal raves, teenagers are exposed to poorly ventilated, run-down
buildings without security or emergency medical personnel on hand, say DJs
Dyloot and Tom Slik. The pair recently opened a record shop in Berkeley and
spin their sounds at raves up and down the West Coast every weekend night.

Politicians reacting to the drug scares associated with raves lose sight of
an irrepressible music culture they can't hope to quash, said Jason
Sperling, 23, aka Dyloot.

"You can't turn your eyes from it ... this culture exists and it's real,"
said Sperling. "They should think twice before shutting these things down,
because at least they can keep an eye on them."

Rave crusaders in San Francisco have been working with local officials to
shore up safety regulations and provide harm-reduction measures rather than
shutting the late-night dances down altogether.

"To some degree I do think there should be a permitting process," said Steve
Simitzis, an Internet entrepreneur and member of the San Francisco Late
Night Coalition - a group dedicated to preserving after-hours dance venues.
"The buildings should be up to code. That's a good thing."

The line for Serenity - a rave at Maritime Hall in San Francisco held
earlier this month - hugs the building's east wall before winding around the
corner.

More than 3,000 teenagers and young adults anticipate what's ahead - a
wonderland of light shows and pulsating music one raver describes as
something between a "hippie vibe and the club scene."

The 18-year-old Sunnyvale resident says the overt sexual tension at clubs
turns him off. "To me it's kind of artificial."

At raves, the lanky, sandy-haired teen says he can enjoy the music and the
vibe without Ecstasy.

"I'm not here for the drugs," he says. "I feel good and I'll have serotonin
when I'm 50."

At Maritime Hall, one of the few venues left in San Francisco to legally
stage all-night revelry, promoters follow the book.

Security guards scan identifications at the door and block anyone under 18
years old from entering. They pat down guests, searching for drugs and
weapons.

In contrast to the frenzied chaos of Fantasy 2000, this "legitimate" rave
looks and sounds more like a school dance run amok.

Ravers roam well-lit, spacious staircases leading from room to room - each
filled with a different brand of pulsating electronic rhythms, including
techno, drum and base, jungle and trance.

Emergency medical technicians with blue jackets wander the venue.

Thin streaks of green light intersect a room where partygoers alternate
between fluid dance moves and breaks for free bananas and lemonade.

A group of guys sporting white T-shirts with the self-styled logo "Ruff
Ravers" stick together in a loosely configured single-file line.

Their interpretation of "partying hard" is "leaving all your bad feelings
and vibes at home and bringing all your PLUR (Peace, Love, Unity and
Respect)," according to one member.

Chicken dinners served with rice and biscuits are dished up for $5 a plate
at a mini-cafeteria adjoining the common dance floor where thousands gather
while red, blue and green lights roll across the high ceiling.

Angela and Michael, two teenagers from Vacaville, greet the sunrise after
leaving the underground party in Oakland and make it home safely to rave
another day.

They won't go to Serenity in San Francisco. After all, it's prom night.

Plus, they have to pinch their pennies for a while. Rave tickets range from
$20 to $30 just to get in the door.

Next time, Angela says she'd prefer a larger rave with more security and
less drug use.

"They didn't even search anyone," says the 18-year-old. "So many people were
on E."

Dana, a senior at Vacaville High School, describes herself as a good student
who's passionate about community service.

The 17-year-old has been going to raves in the Bay Area for two years.

Until last year, she took Ecstasy at every rave.

"I got tired of looking into so many empty eyes and seeing people that
needed to be accepted. They were just trying to get messed up to hide their
reality," she says. "It's really sad because they're so lost."

While Ecstasy drained her spirit, Dana says the parties refuel her
connections to other people and an art form.

"It's a gathering for the love of the music and the love and respect of each
other," she says.

And you don't need Ecstasy to appreciate that, she says.

"(While on Ecstasy) I experienced the whole artificial love and contentment
for the time that it lasts and I enjoyed it," Dana explains. "But, after
awhile, when you realize the love was artificial; you realize you'll be more
happy with yourself and the relationships you develop on your own - sober."