Chemical Warfare: The RAVE Act

At the security checkpoint, a man in a windbreaker asks you to remove your jacket, your shoes and your hat. You lift your arms parallel to the floor and he frisks just about every inch of your body. Your hair is searched. He checks your piercings. You lift up your tongue so he can look underneath with a flashlight. You think, "So this is how produce feels." You pass the inspection, minus one Chapstick.

This is not the scene at airport security on a "heightened state of alert" day. This is a party, and you're in the pre-party phase. Up against the wall and spread 'em. And try to relax.

It's a scene partygoers have become familiar with. Searches, pat-downs, and confiscations of "paraphernalia" have become SOP at many venues, courtesy of the War on Drugs. And the pressure put on promoters to keep their events substance-free is about to ratchet up a notch, as congress ponders the controversial Reducing Americans' Vulnerability to Ecstasy Act, adorably nicknamed the RAVE Act.

The act threatens lengthy prison terms for party promoters whose patrons are caught using drugs. Advocates argue that the RAVE Act will ease what they see as an epidemic of ecstasy abuse. Opponents say the act is aimed at intimidating promoters, coercing them into not throwing parties at all.

Cracked Out

On a federal level, the hostility toward rave-style parties and their promoters has been building steadily. The Ecstasy Prevention Act, which passed through Congress last December, gives states financial incentives for passing ordinances restricting rave clubs and seizing land used for raves via nuisance laws.

But the RAVE Act is widely considered to be the government's most aggressive front so far toward club drugs and the party scene in general. That act expands the 1986 "crackhouse laws " to target promoters who "knowingly and intentionally" throw a party where drugs are present. The promoter, if convicted, can face exorbitant fines and up to 20 years in prison.

The crackhouse laws have been used in the past in attempts to shut down licensed parties, the most famous case being the federal government's investigation of the State Palace Theatre in New Orleans, site of a monthly rave that was infiltrated by the U.S. Drug Enforcement Agency in January of 2000. Undercover agents observed the use of glowsticks, pacifiers, massage tables, bottled water and an air conditioned "chill room." The DEA decided that these accessories were tantamount to drug paraphernalia, and the party's promoters were arrested.

The trial ended in a plea bargain. Barbecue of New Orleans, Inc., the company that had leased the theater for the party, was fined $100,000, and the judge ordered that "rave toys" be banned from the building. Also, any room kept 15 degrees cooler than the rest of the theatre was prohibited. U.S. Attorney Jim Letten called the plea "an immediate, tangible and long-lasting benefit to the welfare of local youth and the community as a whole."

But Letten's victory dance was a tad presumptuous. According to Rolling Stone, which ran the story under the headline "DEA Rave Bust Goes Bust," all charges against the promoters were dropped, the theater continues to hold raves to this day, not one actual drug bust was made and, two months later, a judge ruled that the banning of rave toys violates the First Amendment.

"The government cannot keep legal items out of places because of illegal activities they associate with those items," ruled Judge Thomas Porteous.

The DEA walked away with egg on its face, but that didn't stop it from trying again. In May of 2001, Club La Vela, the famous Panama City Beach site of MTV's Spring Break, was hauled into court under the crackhouse statute as well. Prosecutors presented the courtroom with Blow Pops and glowsticks as evidence of drug use in the club. It took the jury less than two hours to decide that Blow Pops are candy, not drug paraphernalia.