We lined up with about 30 other people, comprised of mostly teenagers. We were confused - there weren't any throbbing basslines or crowded parking lots. Where was the rave? Another friend (who will be known from now on as John) met us in line. Once in the store, someone checked to make sure that you had a ticket (if you didn't, then they would graciously sell you one for $25), then gave you a photocopy of the real directions to the rave. So off we went, going waaaay out east and south of Denver proper, ending up at an airplane hangar. We parked in a dirt lot by a B-52, then headed for the hangar, where we had to wait in yet another line to get in. It was now midnight.

As the cold settled in, Una jokingly asked John if he left his ticket in his jacket, and he did the classic double-take of patting down all of his pockets. Then ran off back to his car. When he finally got back (with his ticket) an official-looking person was shouting out that since this was a federal building, no smoking would be allowed inside. Lighters flickered around us as we read the name of the venue over the front doors: Wings over the Rockies Museum.

So much for the romantic image of partying at an abandoned warehouse. Still, the relative lack of smoke was a blessing for us. We only reeked of sweat when we left.

When we finally got in, the sight that greeted us was a little surreal. Huge angular looming shapes of old military aircraft ringed the vast hangar, while laser lights pierced the darkness. Large glowing balls on scaffolding were placed at strategic points to light your way, and at the far end was the stage where the DJs were spinning the tunes. People were standing or sitting around in groups; few were actually dancing. The music was passable - a nice danceable groove would emerge from time to time. The best part of it was that it wasn't too unbearably loud if you moved towards the sides, and you could even converse in front of the stage, if you wanted. We wandered around the perimeter of the hangar, and found more people dancing up front. Outside, we found a small enclosed area for smokers, and three porta-potties for the 1500 people who were to come. This would later become a factor, when I had to wait half an hour to use the facilities.

The crowd was also much younger than I had expected. For some reason, I thought the crowd would be comprised of 20-somethings, but teenagers made up a large portion, possibly because it was an all-ages show (no alcohol). Unlike the outlandish outfits that we heard were the standard in England, jeans, t-shirts, and mild retro wear ruled at Mars.

We returned to the front, because we came to DANCE! Almost immediately, we lost John. Every half hour or so, one of us would take a break from dancing to go on a walkabout, but we never found him. Later, we would find out that he wasn't abducted by vampyres but that he danced up by the speakers until 2am or so, and then left. DJ Thomas Michael was spinning the tracks, and was pretty good at keeping a nice steady groove. We were still going strong at 1:30, when we spotted Rave Girl and hooked with her and her friends.

They had just gotten there. Seems they made a whole bunch of stops along the way, and had gotten lost from the clothing store. We made a little pile of jackets and water bottles along the edge, and sat around it and talked. This part was a little strange. I had a mental picture of a rave as a non-stop dance party, but with these experienced ravers it was more of a little sit-in interspersed with occasional dancing. Actually, of the three of them only one guy actually danced; the two girls simply chatted or greeted friends. The rave became more of a night club at this point, but without alcoholic beverages. Quite a bit of money to just sit and talk, if you ask me.

We had brought several bottles of water but didn't bring any food or snacks with us, which may have been our one big mistake of the night. At around 3am, our energy levels had been drained by the lack of dinner, the hours of dancing, and the fact that it was 3 in the morning. So we decided to go and try the smart drinks being hawked at the door, and found them to be pretty invigorating, to tell the truth. Whether they actually made us smarter is open to debate, but the sweet fruity concoctions were refreshing, and took care of our hunger to boot. For $3, that wasn't too bad.

The problem was that after the sugar rush was over, so were we. At 4am, we were starting to slag again, so we hit the dance floor one more time, dancing to the sounds of DJ Hardware (I don't know about some of these handles - Hardware?), who was also pretty good, with a harder sound than the previous DJs. At 5am, we decided to pack it in, since we had agreed the previous day to meet a friend (who will be known from now on as Liz) for breakfast at 6. By this time, more people were sitting than standing, and on the way out, I asked one of the organizers how he thought things went. He replied that the turnout was pretty small, but perhaps the next one would be better. 1500 was small?

We were at our friend's door buzzing for entry at maybe 5:30, and after she got ready, we were out cruising for food. The first place wouldn't be open until 6:30, so we went to a place called the Sun Cafe on Colfax, which was reminiscent of the diner in Midnight Cowboy where a woman plays with a rat. Well, we didn't see any rats, and I'm still not sure if we saw any women either. The food was really really bad for you, and after all we had been through, tasted really really good. We chatted for awhile, and saw a beautiful sunrise. By then, of course, we were really starting to get tired, and decided we should get started on our hour drive home. At 9:30am, almost 12 hours after we started, our first rave experience was over. And it won't be our last.