DJ Tipsy T contributes another tale of woe:
It was one week before the party - and we lost our venue. After panicking briefly, a friend referred us to some people he knew who had a 'sweet venue' we could probably get in time. It turned out to be an old bar that was being renovated into a telemarketing office. Telemarketing is one of the few 'legitimate' business that has as many sketchy characters as the rave scene. As luck would have it, the owners were 2 excellent examples of shady telemarketers: they had also branched out into drug dealing, so they were only too happy to rent to us on the condition that they be allowed to sell their drugs at our party. Our alternative? Cancel the party. So we agreed. Was this a bad decision? Do you really have to ask?
1 hour before the party begins, we get a visit from some local Hells Angel boss. He barges in, scopes out the venue, and forces us to put his 'associates' on the guest list. Not wanting to get stabbed, we had little to say in the whole matter and were happy when he left. But the fun was just beginning. Half an hour later, the main breaker for the bar jumps during soundcheck. It turns out the during their renovations some genius had decided to put everything on the same circuit - so as soon as you turned on the lights for the main room or even the bathroom, the breaker jumped. To make matters worse, we had absolutely no access to the breaker - it was downstairs in a Dollarama, that was, of course, closed. We freaked out. Then we rigged an extension cord from some neighbouring person's yard - without their permission, of course - and managed to keep things on track.
That is until about an hour into the party, when the afore-mentioned mob boss shows up and expressly forbids the venue owners from selling their wares. It was a moot point in any case because right after the Hells arrived, so did the police. They took one look at the wobbling floor that was straining under the weight of all the ravers in that sketchy venue and they shut us down. At 1 am the police moved 150 still dancing ravers into the street where they continued their revelry. My partner and I were not so lucky however. As soon as the police had left the building, the owners brought us into the backroom, where we were greeted by about 15 thugs carrying weapons, and a couple of pitbulls. They then proceeded to ask us for 5 times the amount we had agreed to pay - their reasoning being that they were stuck with a truckload of pills they suddenly had nowhere to sell. My partner had by now lost it and was just yelling "KILL ME IF YOU WANT TO, I'M NOT PAYING UP!" over and over. Not wanting to join him in the grave I told him to shut up and naturally just paid and smiled and was happy to get the hell out of there.