The real problem with Ecstasy-addled dancers? They don’t gamble

Hide the kiddies in the root cellar and cover your ears, Las Vegas.

Here comes the Electric Daisy Carnival, with all manner of techno-disco depravity never before seen in our sheltered Mayberry in the Mojave.

Yeah, right.

Starting Friday at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, there will be dancing and drug use and the wearing of wild costumes or next to nothing at all. There will be lights and music like you've never heard -- unless you live inside a giant Ms. Pac-Man game.

In other words, like an average evening at any nightclub on the Strip. But wait, forget I said that.

I'm not here today to shrug and remind you that we live in just about the most hedonistic town outside Sodom and Gomorrah, or that nothing short of regularly scheduled human sacrifice would faze jaded locals. Nothing like that.

No, I'm here to scare you straight and inform the citizenry that there's still time to gather for a large protest against the appearance of the semi-controversial, Ecstasy-fueled rave that apparently has been banned in Los Angeles, a place so morally lax it allows the Kardashian sisters to walk the streets.

Kim, Khloe and the plus-size one, but not the Electric Daisy Carnival. Crazy, huh?

Critics will say it's because of the rampant drug use and occasional overdoses. At an Electric Daisy event in Dallas, a 19-year-old man died, his cause of death as yet undetermined. Last year in Los Angeles, a 15-year-old girl died at an event that saw more than 200 participants hospitalized.

That's bad, very bad. But the trouble with unfurling the "Just Say No" banners is that this is Las Vegas, where the Strip's high-dollar nightclub scene has been the site of endless Ecstasy overdoses in recent years. It got so bad at one club that operators kept a gurney in the kitchen to facilitate the swift removal of the pole-axed party animals. Turns out the unconscious are considered bad for business.

It's not just the nightclubs and ultra-lounges, of course. Over the years, almost every square foot of Las Vegas Boulevard has been the scene of a tourist in trouble for red-lining their Strip experience.

In Las Vegas, "The Hangover" isn't a Hollywood blockbuster. It's an average Tuesday.

But that doesn't stop the handwringing and the sanctimonious sermonizing.

It's nothing new. Back in 1992, County Commissioner Paul Christensen appointed himself community music critic and blasted the approach of the Grateful Dead. Deadheads jammed the Silver Bowl and generated $29 million in revenue, but fear of an invading horde of hemp-scented wanna-be hippies hung in the air like ganja fog.

Christensen retired years ago, but just this week, comments from news articles on the shows were riddled with warnings and finger-wagging. What most failed to admit is that most Las Vegas promotions are the scene of behavior that results in overtime for the police, fire departments and ambulance services.

For example, I would say it's a good thing the weekend rave is at the speedway. Emergency medical workers are intimately familiar with the track. They are kept hopping at each of those All-American NASCAR events: not by Ecstasy-addled fans pretending to be the Queen of Hearts, but by booze-soaked Bubbas proclaiming themselves the King of Beers.

I suspect what makes some officials most upset isn't the drug use or the loud music, but the fact the Electric Daisy devotees don't gamble like fiends and hang out in nightclubs where a bottle of vodka costs more than a car payment.

So what do you call a drug-hazed person who comes to Las Vegas and doesn't gamble?

Possible trouble.

What do you call the same person who comes to Las Vegas and hits the green-felt tables?

A good customer.

And what do you call the Electric Daisy Carnival come Monday?

Just another foggy Vegas memory.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. E-mail him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/Smith