The idea is similar to a needle-exchange program: The kids are going to take the pills anyway, so let's make sure that they do it safely. Thus far, DanceSafe has received support from the local police in the cities where it has chapters. As of yet, no volunteer or raver has been arrested for using the service, thanks to amnesty arrangements with police. According to Sferios, the program has been effective. Although the evidence is still mostly observational, he says, "when people start to expect us and our presence becomes common, the number of fake pills declines. If you do a particular party every time, or an event location every time, you'll start to see less fake pills, because the dealers with the fake pills learn they aren't going to get away with it."

DanceSafe's growing visibility in the rave community has also brought some unexpected challenges. According to Sferios, some savvy drug dealers have learned they can fool the on-site testing kits by putting a tiny amount of MDMA into an otherwise fake pill. (The testing kits can determine only whether a pill contains any ecstasy, not a detailed analysis of its chemical makeup.) "The vast majority of pills with MDMA are still pure," says Sferios, "but we are seeing ones now that are conscious efforts to fool the kits. It's very disturbing."

Cunning drug dealers, however, are the least of DanceSafe's problems. Although DanceSafe gets plenty of support from local police, the federal government is a different matter, and the group is becoming an unintentional victim of the crackdown on nightclubs.

When Eddie Jordan, the New Orleans district attorney, introduced the charges against the Freebass promoters, he cited a list of evidence that showed the promoters had been encouraging drug use. That "evidence" included not only glowsticks, bottled water and chill rooms, but the presence of DanceSafe, which distributed literature at the New Orleans parties and which, according to Jordan, was a group that promoted drug use.

DanceSafe has not yet suffered any legal repercussions for its activities, but Jordan's allegations have had a chilling effect on its activities. Promoters are now afraid to let DanceSafe into their clubs, lest the group's presence -- like that of glowsticks -- be used as evidence against them. "In some cities, promoters that were letting us into their parties have stopped, because of the New Orleans case," says Sferios, noting several parties in the San Francisco Bay Area at which his group's presence was prohibited. "The federal emphasis on ecstasy has affected us by frightening promoters into taking irrational and dangerous stances on this issue. Basically, it's the ostrich syndrome, and it's inhibiting our efforts."

Patterson describes the dilemma now facing promoters who want to work with DanceSafe: "The government has chosen the rave scene to wage their war against drugs, and as a promoter I don't know what decision I'd make. On one side you've got young people who want to participate in education about drugs, but by the very act of engaging in that education process they may be putting the promoter at risk of legal problems."

But DanceSafe's raison d'être is not merely to teach ravers how to be safe, but to teach clubs and promoters to provide what Sferios calls "safe settings." Much of it is common-sense stuff: free drinking water, chill rooms where overheating dancers can cool off, air conditioning and, for the largest events, on-duty medics or readily available emergency medical services. Unfortunately, the federal crackdown on nightclubs means that clubs that do provide these kinds of safety measures are essentially calling attention to themselves as drug havens.

Explains Reynolds, "What has always been regarded as responsible behavior is now going to be regarded as [promotion] of dangerous behavior. As a result they'll do things that are dangerous to patrons to protect themselves."

Club La Vela, for example, believes that its diligence in battling drugs was ultimately used as evidence against it. Says Luke Lirot, the attorney representing Thorston Pfeffer: "Club La Vela had a zero drug-tolerance policy and would call the police anytime they caught anyone with any substance. The police were upset because of all the calls. But clubs without all those calls of service aren't ferreting out all the drug use. Instead of being critical of this practice, they should have been commended."

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