It was clear from the outset, this was a unionist crisis like no other. Disagreement was rife among the delegates as they arrived: was this the worst convulsion since the days of O'Neill and Paisley in the 60s, or was it the worst since Faulkner and the 1974 loyalist workers strike?
Either way it was the worst of times. Everyone smiled, no-one was happy.
Those empowered to meet for battle did so in plenty of time. In fact some were so early it proved that this is the most un-Irish of political organisations. No nationalist would ever allow so much leeway.
Indeed never in the history of battle did the combatants look so unwarlike. Only a conclave could possibly appear more pacifist in appearance if not in tone. If, as Jeffrey Donaldson repeated on arrival, this was indeed "a defining moment" for unionism - those who were about to do the defining looked unlikely applicants for the job of authorship of history.
Ladies had Maggie Thatcher-style perms, the gentlemen were neatly collared and tied. However this reporter did spot one mini skirt and a sole pair of jeans.
David Trimble arrived with the air of a bride's father, all gleaming shoes and artificial smiles. TV cameramen reversed before him while flashguns blinked, and he swept upstairs as if he had done it all before. But then, given that this was UUC number 12 in recent times, he had reason to exude his air of forced familiarity.
If one thing tied the factions, it was the desire for an end to it all. More than one winced at the notion of splits and walkouts and the formation of yet another unionist grouping - perhaps the Provisional Unionists to emerge from the Officials.
Insistence from Trimble and Donaldson that this was about policy not personality seemed to have gone unheeded. Delegate after delegate referred to the two sides by the leaders' names, not by the position adopted.
"Forget about the politics," said a seasoned representative. "This is about emotion, nothing else. It'll be a roller-coaster." And so it proved, although outside the meeting room hotel life continued as if normality was part of the service. Little interrupted the June evening calm other than the swish of swing doors and the quiet breeze of the air conditioning.
Who would win? Party workers who can ascertain opinions by looking at facial expressions said the night would be Trimble's. With a Fianna Fail-like ability to tally and a Sinn Fein-like skill for getting out the vote, they said the leader would emerge with a majority nudged up on last time. The pro-leadership advocates wore their quiet confidence like badges of honour, some even vacated the hall for a "mineral" at the bar.
Behind the hotel the Lagan meandered its way into Belfast - the very river Sammy Wilson said the UUP always chose "to sell Ulster down".