The evening begins around 10 o'clock in a warehouse parking lot, due north of Center City. A cute girl with piggy tails and glittery cheeks graciously offers gifts of stickers and lollipops. On the inside, a sea of smiling faces and dancing bodies float through blackness, illuminated only by flashing neon lights.
Ravers spend hours dancing in complete bliss.
The day is erased, refuge sought in the sweet, safe haven of night. Life is beautiful, they think. And they're right. Not everyone agrees. The rave scene, like so many scenes that have preceded it, and certainly many scenes that have yet to come, is the victim of false publicity and unfair criticism.