Montreal is tight on venues for raves these days but promoters can be very resourceful. With hundreds of tickets sold for his hardcore / dubstep event, one promoter booked the only 24 hour place he could find... a pizzeria. Don't worry said the venue owner, we'll tell the cops you guys are just playing background music for the restaurant. The crew then proceeded to set up the 20,000 watt sound-system, subs and all. As the patrons piled in, the food was cooking.

When the head-liner showed up, he ordered 3 vegetarian pizzas and ate a third of each. The ravers smelled the food but needed to wait for more to be prepared. Things still seemed fairly normal until 2 separate incidents occurred simultaneously. First, a fresh dubstepping raver started majorly freaking out in the parking lot after doing a poorly planned marathon of acid drops, 8 in all. Second, the bass from the music caused pots and utensils in the kitchen to rattle, vibrate and tip over - in turn causing a sudden grease fire. The promoter froze up, expecting ambulances, fire-trucks and cops to descend upon his party and destroy his reputation.

However, the professional restaurant owners deftly put out the flames but no more pizza was prepared for the head-liner who was not pleased. An ambulance picked up the O.D. kid without incident, simply stating "hardcore, dubstep and hits of acid... we've seen this kind of thing before". Unfortunately, the night's bizarre incidents did not end there.

Though he was completely inebriated at this point, it was time for the headliner to play. Drunk as he was, this professional DJ thought he could cover up the smell of smoke from the grease-fire with sound. He proceeded to abuse the sound-system, driving up the volume and EQs to dangerous levels. The stoned ravers, however, stayed in the room dancing with their hands on their ears. The promoter was nonetheless worried about the rented speakers. Creeping on stage to nudge down the master volume, he felt a whiz of wind by his ear, only to note that the DJ had thrown a bottle of beer at his head. A full bottle. Coincidentally, the crash sounded at the same moment as a build-up in the song that was playing hit its peak, so no one really noticed. The promoter walked away, and the party continued.

Several hours and several hundred pills and hits later, the rave ended and the party-goers filed back out. The result was a ruined kitchen, for witch the promoter was billed; a puke flooded parking lot, billed; and a mountain of rented DJ gear covered in grease and beer, billed.

This particular promoter has promised to throw more parties but never anywhere near a kitchen.

A recent string of fights has resulted in the questioning of rave accessories. The first incident occurred a month ago when a little known character referred to only as Bob was dancing among a crowd with strange gadgets hung on to the ends of lengths of rope. After hitting several ravers in the head and back, he was confronted by 2 males. After refusing to stop using his hypno-dance-accessories, the 2 males proceeded to punch him in the stomach and face. One witness recalls the moment that caused the violence: He kept saying that his toys were just fire poi, with funky things he added himself. He said "it's just plastic figurines, that I stuck on the ends". They also smelt really bad. He told two people that if they didn't like how ravers dance that they were in the wrong party. That's when one of the two guys smacked him in the face.

Bob was not deterred. He used different dancing tools at parties over the next few weeks, including: glow-sticks on black strings that were elaborated with long strips of black cardboard, a dozen pinwheels taped onto a long wooden bar, and a chain that was doused in broken glow-stick goo upgraded with kerosene. Each time the use of his strange contraptions resulted in a fight, minor injuries or intense arguments. Though these confrontations would be a clear message for most individuals, this over-indulging acid freak and ex-meth-head promises to create the ultimate raver thingamajig and show the world how trippy cool it looks. If you see Bob nearby, please duck.

Outdoor Raves are a big part of the scene and so is stealing empty gas canisters that sit by the generator at the end of the night. This popular crime seemed to have no motive until now.

There are two gangs of gas canister thieves. The first, known as the Huffers, are a group of 4 burnt-out friends that were caught red-handed at a free party last week. Their 'raison-d'être' is rooted in their need for cheap thrills. After gingerly swiping the used canister, they sneak off into a nearby wooded area and proceed to huff the last remaining fumes, and take turns licking the inside of the cap. They return to the party, after unscrupulously leaving the dried out canister among the trees, and are often seen bumming smokes and literally tripping on the dance floor, bags, people, wires and rocks. There is no real way of punishing this small group of individuals, except banning them from events; though in the world of free parties, you might spot them. They would look chipper until the generator needs to be replenished, then they get unpleasant in a quick way. If you see them (you can identify them by their terrible breath), please notify the promoters so that they can head into the forest to recuperate their material.

The second group, known as the Red Bandits, is much more criminal. Still unmasked, they make their rounds of outdoor events and steal all the canisters they can (sometimes even the full ones). They then proceed to sell those red canisters to other shady promoters, independent mechanics and innocent people stuck on the side of the road with car troubles. These bandits have also been known to dose the first gang on occasion, though they never work together.

As unfortunate situations arise, promoters are doomed to locking up their gas cans and spending lots of money replacing those cute little red canisters. Now that the first gang of trouble-makers has been identified, one ingenious promoter now simply keeps the caps hidden, making the canister useless for resale. Watch yourselves... thieves do Speed too.