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.