Friday morning we (Shaun and Beth and I) got up, took an uneventful cab ride back to O'Hare, where we caught an uneventful plane to an uneventful bus ride to our hotel. We weren't staying at any of the official festival hotels because we got a good deal on the Sheraton downtown, which is an easy subway ride away from the theater. Except, of course, that the subway wasn't running. Our cell phones weren't working, either, so we had to use (gasp) pay-phone technology to contact Tabetha (somehow, none of us had KPR's phone number with). That's when we found out that our show that night (that is, everyone's shows that night) had been canceled, but we were all invited over to Tabetha's house to just hang out.
A quick trip to an Internet cafe (pretty much the only net access we had all weekend) and a rolling blackout at our hotel later, and we cabbed it over to Tabetha's. (The cab driver of this first-cab-ride-in-Toronto-on-a-visit-where-we-were-going-to-be-dependent-on-cabs took us way out of our way and then had to ask directions of someone else at a stop light, which made me worried for the rest of the weekend -- fortunately the rest of our cab drivers were much more capable (though they did all take different routes from the hotel to the theater).)
Tabetha's was delightful. A ton of people stopped by to drink tons of Amsterdam and hang out. Joey deVilla, who had agreed to accompany us on his accordion for our Bare show, came by and charmed us all with his wit and accordion-playing-on-the-lawn. I think Joey made a couple of bucks at the party -- people just can't resist throwing money at a man playing the accordion. Late in the evening, Joey, Karen Wight of goga, and I went out dancing at the Velvet Underground. Joey feed me something called "Rev" that looked like Windex and tasted like soda. And had, evidently, plenty of vodka in it.
Pizza. Stumble home to the Sheraton. Sleep.