Lou penetrates the O-Zone lair and zeroes in on his favorite room -- the kitchen. He's got a surprise for O-Town. Apparently, the band will travel to New York City for a so-called showcase. Trevor, who explained the tricky "crew lock" concept to no-shit-Sherlock perfection, takes a stab at "showcase" and, incredibly, doesn't spew a definition that involves luggage displays or The Price is Right. "A showcase is where a group performs, like, a couple of songs in front of a record company, and they decide whether or not they want to sign you," Trevor offers. In the company of O-Town, he freaks about this. Ashley looks extremely dubious about their chances in such a venue. Jacob Underprepared bitches that O-Town just redid two parts of "All For Love" that very day, and Dan wasn't there to learn it, so the showcase is tainted and only a stupid hulking warthog would plan such an ill-conceived outing -- ah, wait, never mind. "It's not even fathomable to do a showcase when we've only been together a month and a half," Jacob complains to the camera. Violins play. Back in the kitchen, Dan nods vigorously and proclaims, "I'll have it. I'll be ready." Four indignant heads swivel sharply in his direction, annoyed at Dan's incessant positive attitude and strong work ethic, and half-afraid he'll infect them with motivation. Jacob actually boos and hisses. Lou decrees that vocals are of paramount importance, so they can scrap the choreography during the showcase -- and that way, maybe he can cut TyJuan and Raymond's pay and blow the extra money on Haagen-Dazs. "And make it a quick showcase, okay?" Lou asks, because the song's duration is inversely proportionate to its quality. Lou reminds them of the gravity of the situation, and Trevor giggles because gravity is his fun friend who keeps him on the ground and sometimes naughtily peeks down his trousers. Dan frets that he's still behind in the learning curve, still trying to master what had been taught in addition to the current lessons. His teeth glint.
Welcome to New York City. O-Town spills out onto the Manhattan streets and gushes about the town. Lou grins and hugs everyone to greet them (must've made O-Town fly commercial jets, gasp!), taking them inside a plush hotel. The Rotund Ghastly Creep tells The Singing Garbage Heaps how much they'll love The City that Never Sleeps. My boredom meter beeps.
Wake up, Manhattan. The Statue of Liberty is still there, although she's exchanged the torch for a can of pepper spray in case Lou drops by for a visit and wants to sneak up her elevator again. The band arrives at MTV and gets a tour -- not of the entire facility, but of Total Request Live. It's such a fascinating set that O-Town only needs three seconds to see it and can then get the hell out of the building to make room for Christina Aguilera and her huge pillowy...ego. Trevor, so often the most thoughtful and poetic of the bunch, blurts out elaborate sentiments. "This is awesome," he shares. "Quite the experience." Well, at least he used words correctly, and conjugated a verb to boot. Recappers can't be choosers. Lou gets geeked because they are smack in the middle of Times Square and there's probably some blatant sin happening down below. "I'm looking forward to getting on the show [TRL], like, for our talent," Jacob shares. We see O-Town crowding around the giant windows. They laugh, because the great unwashed masses are swarming the MTV sidewalk just to glimpse Carson Daly -- and O-Town's close enough to goose the lunatic and lick his scraggly chin. In fact, giddy Dan is seriously considering doing that. Carson wanders over and half-heartedly shakes hands with the band, every member of which is grinning from ear to ear. Picture-taking ensues. Carson Daly is one of the greatest celebrities and role models of our generation, third only to the ingenious Kirsten Dunst and that plucky Taco Bell chihuahua. "Hopefully next time, we'll be doing it right," Carson says, trying desperately to extricate himself from the forced meeting by extending an invitation he's sure won't ever come back to slather his ass in honey-mustard sauce and chomp freely. The producers whip out a Jay confessional scene. "Music goes so far, but unfortunately, if you're not a presence on TRL, you're not someone people want to talk to and interview," Jay says. "And that counts as much as music." Right. So ex-veejay Jesse Camp = compelling and talented because he's been on or near TRL, whereas Frank Sinatra (RIP) pretty much sucks wildebeest.