A comedian's VIP performance gets moved from a Lube Room to a ball pit the night before the show. When ticket holders arrive expecting a mariachi band, chaos erupts: the wrong lubricant makes attendees stick together, they demand "La Bamba" in German, and the narrator can't deliver.
Sorry, part 6. I did not expect it to get this long. All right, so, uh, my ticket gave me access to the Lube Room because it was part of the VIP package, which I got comped because I was performing there as well. And I get an email the night before from the organizer's lawyer saying that my show had been switched to the Ball Pit, which is, you know, whatever, it's gonna— it's fine, whatever. What they didn't tell me is that they had combined the Lube Room with the Ball Pit because of some overflow issue they were having or something. And look, I've yodeled in rooms small and rooms large, and it wasn't a big deal. I told my xylophone guy and he was fine with it. The The problem came when the first ticket holders showed up because they had been promised on their, like, on the, the back of their admission cards, they'd been promised a mariachi band, which me and Raúl are not. But the event manager is like, you know, we'll give you an extra night if you can switch it up. Oh, sorry, back to the lube in the ball pit. It was supposed to be silicone. It was not. And so now people are, uh, are stuck to each other. And demanding that we do La Bamba. And look, I don't even speak German, okay, let alone sing it. But I think I must have been clairvoyant because before I left our hotel room, I remembered— oh shit, I'm out of time. Sorry, follow for part 7.
Ten times Canada helped the U.S. with its wildfires, instead of whining about the smoke. 
