Ryan had made the fatal mistake of trusting JK to find a suitable venue for the week-capping party. He had been repeatedly assured that everything had gone according to plan, and that a large, legal space had been secured. It was right around lunch time on the day of that we discovered this wasn't, in fact, true.
A series of panicked phone calls from JK confirmed that whatever venue may have existed up until that point, it had now dropped of the face of the earth. But not to fear! JK knew of the perfect alternate location - but maybe it would be a little bit smaller than what we had planned. None of us really believed that JK was capable of finding anything even remotely appropriate in such a short amount of time, but given the current situation, we had no choice but to believe him once again. It is said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, and I think that that particular February afternoon was a perfect example.
Not convinced that JK could seal his end of the deal, we started calling headliners, hoping to intercept them before their travel plans brought them irrecovably on course for the Ottawa area. I managed to catch Lesbians on Ecstacy as they were loading the van for the trip up from Montreal. We had been scheduled to play a versus set with them, but at this point, I advised them not to waste their time. Having done the best we could, we picked up Kai Winter from his hotel and dropped in on some friends to while away the hours before party setup. This is where Kai got his first taste of American reality television, in the form of Cops, which was having a Valentine's Day Domestic Disturbance special. Entranced by the shirtless men screaming "I LOVE YOU!" from the back of a police cruiser at crying women on their front lawns, he repeatedly declared "There is nothing in Germany like this". I am inclined to believe him.
Zero hour was finally at hand. We piled into our various vehicles and sought out the new venue using hastily scribbled directions. The venue was apparently on Bank street, Ottawa's main drag, which should have immediately set off warning bells. But as it was, the hair didn't begin to rise on the back of our collective necks until we had debarked from our cars and stood in front of the address we had been given.