Dan tumbles out of a tour bus and into a strange warehouse-looking building. "Welcome to Georgia," he proclaims. I had no idea the state of Georgia was so small and fully encased in cheap tin siding and a flimsy roof, but I guess it has been awhile since I was in Atlanta. The appalled State of Georgia Chamber of Commerce immediately gets cracking on a new promotional leaflet. Trevor's got a cell phone attached to his ear, but he pauses in his enthralling conversation to wax impressed about how "huge" this place is.
As it turns out, O-Town is just perusing the Georgia National Fairgrounds, which is stocked with red folding chairs to accommodate all the band's fans and a few hundred of their imaginary friends. Jacob shares that the area's capacity is roughly two-thousand people. "It's a perfect practice place because it's not a huge crowd, but it's not a tiny crowd," Jacob decides. Jay laughs at him, because it's pretty huge for a group's second-ever performance. In that tally, Jay discounts the Southwest Middle School debacle, Ashley and Shelli's stunning beachfront break-up and that entire episode where O-Town was "uncertain" whether Lou would accept Dan. Jacob makes nice with a long-haired roadie while Trevor gets all giddy with us. "I'm really in a group!" Trevor rejoices. "I'm really performing onstage, I can't believe this!" And I bet he sleeps in a big-boy bed, too. My, how they do grow up -- although intuition tells me Trev's yet to brave a world without Huggies' Pull-Ups. Maybe next season, eh, Trev?
After acting cranky for ages, Jay snaps out of it and heaps praise -- tempered, yes, but accolades nonetheless -- upon O-Town. "You are such good people to put yourselves out there like this and trust us," Jay says softly. Um, isn't it the other way around? Anyway, Jay adds, "That's why I get mad. Things happen, but...just go do a good show." Please, Jay silently pleads, do well -- if my mother sees me fail on national television, she'll never make pot roast again or cut the crusts off my grilled-cheese sandwiches.
At night, Lou shamelessly lavishes more millions on his latest protegés. He springs for sterile, bare-bones lodging at a truck-stop motel, all the better for resting five tenors' already dubious singing voices. "We are in Perry, Georgia," Trevor tells the camera, but not in the usual confessional style -- in this entire scene, the guys are moving around the hotel room addressing the camera directly. Erik shows off the fiery combination of sex appeal and sultry lyricism that won our hearts from day one. He stands in front of the mirror and dances in a ridiculous Hawaiian-print top while crooning, "Flower shirt, flower shirt, I am wearing a flower shirt." He repeats this three times in a falsetto. Erik's penis then shrivels and then actually inverts. Trevor begs him to shut up. "I am nervous," Jacob tells the camera. He's so nervous, in fact, that he's putting on shoes and socks despite having failed to don a t-shirt. "I've moved from being nervous to being anxious," Jacob corrects himself. "It's like a high being out there." Dan does sit-ups while proclaiming this period the calm before the storm. "I'm so ready," shouts Trevor, clapping his hands. "I love it!" Everyone agrees they have to remember what they learned and not screw Lou completely. Profound words from a pack of people who have, up to now, basically been screwdrivers.