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The day the dance hall became a crack house
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I remember taking the occasional school fieldtrip to Skate World, strapping on roller skates in the pre-Roller Blade era, enjoying afternoons with teachers and peers. How sad to think just under 20 years later that Skate World would become a crack house.
In fact, there have been a lot of crack houses springing up lately — the county fair, which kicked into gear this weekend, has the blight of a crack house on its horizon. Everywhere we’ve seen colorfully dressed up young people dancing the night away, law enforcement officials in Boise and areas nationwide see the dredges of society smoking crack pipes in squalid corners, purchased at the expense of the baby’s food and diapers.
Last month, following a five month investigation (I’d assume that a Boise police officer undercover at a rave would stand out like Bill Clinton in the lady’s locker room, but evidently – to paraphrase Marissa Tomei in “My Cousin Vinny” – they blended), 16 candied-out twenty-somethings were arrested for drug distribution at raves. The bust included three promoters hooked under an obscure 1980s federal law governing crack houses. The theory of drug officials in citing this law being that promoters are knowingly operating a venue in which they are aware drug use is taking place.
In other news of the nationwide dancing crackdown, glow-sticks, pacifiers and Vicks VapoRub have now joined the ranks of the bong as drug paraphernalia, and sale of water (because Ecstasy often causes overheating) is cited as proof that promoters were aware that drug use was taking place.
It is a wonder whether this new crackdown is really seeking to eliminate the drugs or the dancing. A June 20 Salon.com article quotes a promotional video for the DEA as saying, “Lately raves are just a venue for drug purchases. They are no more than analogous to a crack house, in which you go buy the drugs and go out the back door. Although there’s music being played, and the people at the raves are saying, ‘I come here for the music,’ drugs are predominant in these rave clubs.” Our own Mayor Coles has said much the same thing.
For people going to places like Skate World or the fairgrounds simply to get drugs, ravers sure go to a lot of trouble. There is special clothing and jewelry, often homemade. There is a unique style of music, and bookings of expensive DJs. There is a bizarre style of dance that I can best describe as break dancing meets mime meets voguing.
Having been to at least one of these events, I can concur with Mr. Coles that the entire atmosphere including the music and the visuals were delightfully, intentionally engineered to coincide quite nicely with the effects of certain substances. But, behind it all, is a new youth culture in one of its rare original manifestations of the 1990s. Baby boomers had the drugged out glory daze in the hippie communes or the `70s discos, and the `80s mixed cocaine with prestige. Baby boomers seem intent that the younger generation never make the mistakes they so easily survived.
I cannot say I stand in complete admiration of the rave scene. I too was told of PLUR (peace, love, unity, respect) and of finding spirit in music, and I encountered many stuck up young things and ghetto trolls, not to mention the disturbing sight of several of my baby sister’s friends. Many of the rave’s old guard, in spite of all the new attention raves have been getting lately, think that the scene died years ago.
Still, young people 18-21 have incredibly little to do in the city of Boise. Many end up driving around in circles downtown whooping and hollering. Raves are a social venue for a more sensitive, artistic and slightly disaffected youth mindset to find common ground with the like-minded and lose themselves in music.
I don’t suppose I can completely sympathize with those caught for selling drugs, though I’ve known people who have sold or been addicted to drugs in the past and ended up becoming highly effective people. For these cherubic young thugs, PLUR will now stand for penance, lockdown, unrest and rehabilitation.
But I must sympathize with those who in trying to give people something to do on a Saturday night, spending mass money on music and promotion, find themselves facing a federal minimum of 10 years’ imprisonment because of the actions of some attendees.
Sean C. Hayes