The Amazing Race S01E14

It was all relatively low-key at first, honest. It was like one of those high school party movies where some kid, probably a WB dropout, really intends to obey his parents' directive against having parties in the house while they're away, but then he invites two friends over to play chess and watch old episodes of Star Trek, and by the time the last reel starts, the police have shown up, twenty-six people have been arrested, and on the soundtrack, some band that was hot three months ago has covered a song that was never particularly good in the first place when it was done by a band that was hot twenty-seven years ago.

Ahem. Anyway, in early December, a few of the New-York-based posters from the forums came up with the notion of getting together in a bar to watch the last episode ofThe Amazing Race. The lovely missdona and Poptart agreed to take on the task of finding a place. When a couple of folks in other cities started asking about get-togethers in their own towns, Sars (who had already made noise about coming to the New York party) started a thread, which she called "TARcon," about last-episode parties.

Around this same time, my bustling contestant gossip grapevine (consisting of Rob) filled me in that they were all going to be in New York for the finale also. Said grapevine made an entirely offhand and entirely in jest comment to the effect of, "You should get MBTV to fly you in!" Heh. (One of the lessons of this experience is this: Never say anything to me in jest that might tempt me.) Anyway, fast forward through a whole bunch of e-mails with various folks; a spontaneous and against-my-better-judgment surf over to Orbitz, which informed me that flying to New York for a spontaneous weekend was shockingly affordable; and a lot of shaking my head at the sheer preposterousness of the very idea of what I was doing, and the long and the short of it is that I wound up running off to New York for the now-famous TARcon, an MBTV/TAR shindig that took place at the lovely and hospitable Magee's during and after the finale. Furthermore, I managed to wangle a very generous invite for Sars and myself to what I'll call Dinnercon, a dinner attended by the contestants that took place the night after the party. All in all? Quite a weekend.

So now, we bring you The Amazing Dish, a compendium of gossip, scoopage, snark, and whatever else is fit to print. Where appropriate, you'll notice we've hearkened back to recaps past, in order to remind you where we've been. Grab your popcorn and sit back.

Enter Snarking

I took my friend Amy to the TARcon with me, both because Amy is fun to have handy at a moment like this and because I would have been far too freaked out to go by myself, lest I walk into the wrong room and wind up at a bachelor party watching a stripper. As Amy and I walked in and made our way up the stairs, I said to her, "It doesn't sound like it's that loud. I think that's a good sign -- maybe there aren't that many people there." You have to understand that I was equal parts jazzed and uneasy at this point, because there really isn't a clause in the MBTV Recapper's Style Guide that covers this sort of thing. We opened the door to the upstairs bar, and were immediately met. "Are you here for The Amazing Race?" said the woman at the door. "Uh, yes," I told her, not precisely sure what to say. "I'm missdona, I'm your hostess," she said, smiling. I leaned over to her so she could hear me over what was, it turned out, a crowd that was noisy in the extreme. "I'm Miss Alli, I'm your recapper." She said something that was just right -- something like, "Get out." You know, not "get out of the bar, bitch," but "hey, no kidding." She handed me a goodie bag, which was full of party favors like a little Frank and Margarita Harlequin Romance mock-up and a selection of little booze bottles, which I'm now surprised I didn't get to sooner. She introduced me to Poptart, and then Amy and I worked our way down to the other end of the bar, where the big TV was. This was perhaps fifteen minutes before the start of the finale.

And then? The first of several extremely surreal moments during the evening -- my first encounter with a little clump of posters. This was when I met the lovely raygirl, as well as djeber, and it was also when I first felt myself pushing my back into the wall as if it might be possible to disappear. "This," my brain muttered, "is weird."

Wait a Minute, What's Happening?

I didn't really see the finale when it was actually on. I noticed a few things -- those hideous white shoes, Esquire throwing something on the ground (turned out to be the flashlight batteries), the dogsleds, Rob doing something with a cell phone which people were muttering might be a rules violation -- but I couldn't hear a thing for the most part, so I couldn't tell what was going on. For what it's worth, I also absolutely believed I knew who was going to win (more on that in a minute), so I really wasn't feeling a lot of suspense. Anyway, while the show was actually running, I mostly talked to the folks at the party and accepted a beer or two. I did make some noise when the ugly red hat came along, but that's about it. It wasn't until the last taxi sequence that I glued myself to a TV and started paying attention.

As we cruised into the last segment, the shot came up of Esquire on the train, and then of Frank and Margarita back in the station. A collective gasp went up in the bar, including a bit of noise from me. A few minutes later, there was that nutty Esquire, up on the podium with Phil. I can honestly tell you I was entirely shocked. Like, drop-dead, knocked-out shocked. Sars can confirm that she and I had talked, about three hours before the finale started, about how sure we were that it would be Frank and Margarita, because we just didn't see the Guidos catching up, and it obviously wasn't going to be Esquire. How had we been so sure? Because we've watched television before. The tale of Frank and Margarita was so compelling. Their story arc was so obvious. It was a movie. Obviously, it wouldn't be the attorneys. Furthermore, I think I secretly believed that somehow, if Rob had won, I would have been able to tell. Wouldn't I? Apparently not. Lawyers really are sneaky.

Meeting The Contestants

It was about a half hour after the show ended when the contestants started showing up. We'd heard rumblings that they might come, or that they'd try to come, but I'm not sure anyone there was ready for what we got. I certainly wasn't.

"Drew and Kevin. Ah, Drew and Kevin. Fraternity brothers and best friends, they have shaved their heads, which they think makes them look cool, but which actually has the same effect it has on most men, which is to make them look like giant roll-on deodorants."

The arrival of Kevin and Drew was an event. Neatly dressed and as smooth as a vanilla shake, they slid in the door and were immediately among precisely the adoring crowd the behavior of the forums would suggest. I was struck by the urge to say, "Welcome, Davy Jones and Desi Arnaz, Jr.!" I shook Drew's hand as he went by, but we didn't talk. It was noisy, after all, and I didn't know what to say anyway. I suspect I would have come up with something extremely intelligent, like "fuh." ["I went with 'eeeee!'" -- Sars] When I introduced myself to Kevin, I did manage not to say "fuh," but I used my real name, which of course meant absolutely nothing to him. I said something about "recapper," but the volume in the room was so extraordinary that he didn't hear me at all. It wasn't until maybe ten minutes later that I saw him working his way back in my direction. I'd been pointed out. "You have to tell me these things," he said with a grin. (You know it -- it's The Grin. Well, you know it from TV, of course, and as much as it's going to pain some of you, I must say that in person, it's better. Sorry.) "You have to talk MBTV to me, or it doesn't mean anything. You have to say, 'I'm Miss Alli, whatever,' because otherwise I don't recognize it." Hee. He gave me a hug. Said nice things about the recaps. Very cool. I remember being very aware that we were blocking the bathroom door during this conversation -- that's just how incredibly laid-back and relaxed I was feeling.

"Joe and Bill are life partners, who are calling themselves 'Team Guido' after their little dog. They've been together fourteen years, so yay, Team Guido."

So this tall cutie who introduced himself to me as I stood against the wall turned out to be the forums' famous chatterbox, who is, I am here to tell you, (1) younger, (2) cuter, and (3) quieter in person than I was expecting. If you aren't a forum reader, understand that chatterbox has been our Guido connection for a while now, and has frankly been a hell of a sport about it, considering how firmly in the minority he was for most of the season. He'd made noise about showing up, and I'd bugged him to do it, so it was pretty cool that he showed. It was, naturally, he who introduced me to the Guidos a few minutes after I saw out of the corner of my eye that they had arrived. "Bill and Joe are looking for you," he said in a low tone, reaching for my hand. I offered it, but I made a face -- not an angry face or a "yuck" face, just my overwhelmed squirmy face (which was getting quite a workout). I met Bill first. He was really very gracious, complimenting me on the recaps and telling me how much he and Joe enjoyed them. Joe was sillier -- he saw me, and he immediately said, "Sweetheart, we have so much to talk about." No, really. This is what he did. You can picture it, can't you? He also kissed my hand a lot. Anyway, they were nattily dressed -- but they didn't match, I'm happy to say. ["Still, those suits? Cut like diamonds. Tres soign." -- Sars] And nobody's jacket had "Team Guido" embroidered on the pocket or anything like that. On behalf of the civilized world? Whew.

I should also mention that chatterbox had another classic moment during this particular strange evening. We made eye contact in the middle of a conversation I was having with someone else -- I don't remember which one specifically, but it would have been one of the many that night that made me wonder whether I was perhaps having a very, very strange dream. Anyway, I think I must have been wearing my overwhelmed squirmy face again, because he immediately smiled sympathetically and made a drinking gesture in my direction. I nodded enthusiastically, and he handed me a beer about a minute later. The story of this season is boys bringing me drinks, no?

"Dave and Margaretta are grandparents, and have been married 40 years. Margaretta says Dave is a little bossy but she doesn't take orders, so that sits well with me, and then Dave comments that Margaretta is 'an Amazing Lady,' so we know Dave is hip to Bruckheimer's theme. Hint: It has something to do with Amazingness. It's everywhere you look."

It was Aaron who brought Dave and Margaretta to me. I'd seen them walk by while I was talking to somebody else, and I'd of course done a large double-take, but I hadn't had a chance to catch them. Apparently, they'd been looking around for me, and Aaron was kind enough to direct them. Seriously, as nice and as sweet as you think they are? That's how nice and how sweet they are. Except possibly more so. Furthermore, Davey told me at Dinnercon that he had received my proposal ("Marry me, Davey") and that if he ever was forcibly separated from his wife, he would be taking me up on it. I'm not holding my breath.

"Kim and Leslie are single teachers, and they look like they probably posed for the 'Girls of the Big Ten' calendar in college."

Tragically, I missed the opportunity to meet Dark Hair and Light Hair. Well, I met Dark Hair just very, very briefly at Dinnercon, but I didn't meet Light Hair at all, so I have very little to report except how nice she was on the boards since the party, and the fact that everybody who did get a chance to meet her seems to have nice things to say. Hey, everybody who showed up gets points with me. ["I didn't spend much time talking to them, but both Hairs were very friendly." -- Sars]

"Matt and Ana met while serving in the Army, despite the fact that they look like hippies -- particularly Matt, who has that strange and confusing sort of reddish beard that isn't really a beard so much as a meandering fringe crying out in the darkness, just wanting someone to love it. It's the Little Orphan Annie of facial hair. It may even be the Tiny Tim."

Didn't meet them. Didn't talk to them. Don't have anything to say. Weirdly, it seems appropriate, doesn't it? ["Matt is super-nice. We had a nice chat about Long Island, of all things, which is I believe where he and Ana live. I can also report that he's fond of his in-laws. (Don't ask. Lots of wine getting drunk that night.) And he's cut his hair short and lost the chin pubes, which is a huge improvement." -- Sars]

"Patricia and Brenda are described as 'working moms,' which is apparently sufficiently descriptive for CBS's programming folks. I always find it strange that women can be described as merely 'working.' 'What does she do?' 'Oh, she works. You know, mining, stem cell research, waiting tables, serving as Secretary of the Interior -- something like that.'"

I didn't meet Pat at all, but I met Brenda at Dinnercon. She looked quite different, very blonde and glam. She came over to talk and was very effusively friendly and nice. We had a fascinating conversation about pendulums in Paris, as you can imagine.

"Nancy and Emily are the 'conservative mother [and] adventurous daughter.' Said adventurous daughter explains that she is a 'get-up-and-go, on-the-spot, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl.'"

I met Emily for about two minutes at Dinnercon. That's one that I regret -- not enough dish time at all. I didn't even recognize her at first at the TARcon -- her hair is lighter and longer, and obviously she was more dressed for a party and less dressed for summer camp than she was on TV. She was friendly enough, but unfortunately, I didn't learn a lot. Well, except what everybody learned, which is the whole Bremily thing, which was outed on TV, in the paper, blah dee blah, and which was certainly outed at the party. They're cute. And good-looking. And seem happy. Expect to see them on the cover of month's issue of Good-Looking Couples Monthly.

"Lenny and Karyn are dating, and thinking of marriage. He wants the million bucks to buy her a ring (some ring!), even though she says she's 'very difficult.'"

Karyn and I spoke very briefly at the party Thursday night, but more extensively on Friday. What she says in person is basically what she's said on the boards -- I think she felt misrepresented, in the sense that it shocked her how people saw her as picking on Lenny, when I think she feels like she was just trying to be successful at what she was doing. (She also says that he was throwing up constantly throughout the race, not just the time we saw, which makes her look a little less nasty for asking him whether he could make it to the flag. Hee.) She's also quite tall and pretty in person -- I'd say that generally, the women were taller and the men were shorter than I'd thought they'd be from seeing them on television.

"Frank and Margarita are separated, with a baby daughter. They hope to reconcile, and Frank says the race is 'the crossroads of [their] relationship.'"

"Frank is looking for you."

You can imagine my concern.

I think it was Poptart who spoke these fateful words to me. She pulled me through what was, by this time, a very tightly packed crowd. I caught chatterbox's eye. "I'm going to go get killed now," I said to him matter-of-factly. Suddenly, it was upon me. The looming form of the one and only Loud Pushy Frank, all dressed in white. And this is what he said: "I got a bone to pick with you! We're gonna go outside and have a brawl!"

It was at this point that my life flashed before my eyes. It's been a nice life, incidentally, although seventh grade was a little slow and I don't remember very much of my first year of college.

Hey, Remember When You Said

Unavoidably, one of the topics of conversation was the content of recaps past.

"Bill and Joe are on the subway. Joe: 'It would be just our luck to lose this thing in Paris when we lived here for two years.' Okay, first of all, it's not your 'luck.' Your 'luck' has been fine. Your overconfidence is the problem. Second of all, if you mention your time spent in Paris one more time, I'm going to crawl through my TV, come find you, and put snags in all your most expensive sweaters. Bill assures Joe that they won't lose."

Joe was very funny at Dinnercon about the whole "living in Paris for two years" thing. He went back and forth with me and Sars for quite a while: "We lived in Paris for two years." "You did?" "We did!" "You should have said something! How could we have known?" "Well, I don't know!" "We had no idea!" "Well, that's shocking!" Hee. It was funny. Never let it be said that I ever get tired of a joke.

"Guidos in Rome. Damn them. They get a taxi and head for the flag. It turns out that in addition to speaking crappy-ass French, they also speak crappy-ass Italian. If I have to watch Bert and Ernie (tm Esquire, by the way) snot their way through another European city while informing me constantly of how much they know about it, I'm going to start tearing my face off just as a distraction."

Joe singled this out as the one thing I wrote that he hated the most -- he was appalled at being accused of speaking crappy-ass Italian. Furthermore, he reported that when I made my "tearing my face off" comment, he said to Bill, "If she promises to actually tear her face off, I might promise to keep working my way through European cities." Hee.

"Frank voices over that they hadn't really expected a big lead from the Fast Forward. Good thing, too, because they don't have much of a lead. When we see his interview, he reveals his nice, non-annoying smile that he's suddenly picked up. Stop smiling, Stubbly Yummy Frank."

Frank has a very specific memory of being called Stubbly Yummy Frank. He had to think about it for a minute, but he came up with it all on his own. "Stubbly Yummy Frank!" he yelled. "That's what you said! That was good!" He said it was at that point that he began to think I was coming around at last. Not entirely untrue, either. He and I also discussed the famous eating-the-unfamiliar-food challenge. He defended his position that Margarita hadn't been very wise in agreeing to do it when she didn't want to, and I reminded him that I had taken his side. He remembered that, too, and he thanked me.

Amazing Miscellany

A few other interesting things I learned.

"Outside, Rob and Brennan are breaking the news to their cab driver that they're tipping zero -- no, seriously, ZERO -- on a thirty-eight-dollar fare. Ouch. Whatever wild animals may attack them later, whatever fungus they have to eat, whatever creeping jungle rot they come down with, this is the closest Rob and Brennan are going to come to death."

I am told that they were not -- not even remotely -- the only team who didn't tip the cabbie. Lots of teams didn't tip. Nobody knew what the money situation was at that time, and nobody knew whether there'd be enough for a tip. But the hot young privileged attorneys failing to tip? That's a story. Plus, it formed the basis of the Transportation Curse, so it's a good thing it was shown, and shown early.

"Phil attempts to build suspense by wondering aloud whether the trailing teams can catch up with the leaders, but his efforts are undercut by how utterly ridiculous he looks in the rolled-up pant legs and the bare feet. Sucks to be washed up on the beach in paradise with nothing but your beige button-down shirt and your brown pants. Where's Phil's Hawaiian shirt? Where are Phil's devil-may-care denim cutoffs? Everybody else gets to swim, but Phil's mom only lets him go wading."

Phil didn't make it to the TARcon, but I met him at Dinnercon, and he's verrrrry nice also. He went through a very amusing explanation of how he carefully got the show to set up this shot and roll tape directly up his nose with the sky in the background. It's possible that you had to be there.

Team Stiff-the-CabbieTeam Subpoenas-Envy

These were two nicknames bandied about in the first recap for the team that later became Esquire. They're both too long, so I never would have kept thembut I still think Esquire owes me a debt of gratitude for dropping them both. Especially the second one, no?

"Credits. It occurs to me that this thumpety-thump-bwah-dah music sounds like the theme song from a movie about espionage. Well, maybe a porno movie about espionage. (Espionage porn! Maybe it's the big thing!) On the visual side, the highlight is Team Guido sitting in front of the fireplace, clinking wine glasses and undoubtedly saying, 'Gentlemen, to evil!' (tm Mikey)."

Sars and I toasted with Bill at Dinnercon, and we actually said, "Gentlemen, to evil." Very surreal, that weekend was. ["I told Bill about how Wing Chun and I saw the Simpsons episode in which the camp director toasts the bully counselors with that very line and both yelled out, 'Hey, it's Team Guido!' He laughed politely." -- Sars]

"Esquire. As we come up on them in the car, I suddenly realize why I object to this damn hat Rob is still wearing. It's because this trip, and these guys in particular, are begging for a beat-up Indiana Jones fedora. If Rob, in this shot, were wearing a beat-up Indiana Jones fedora instead of this goofy little garden-party let's-go-on-a-safari thing, suffice it to say that the situation would be completely different. There's nothing wrong with the hat itself, exactly, it's just the simple economics of opportunity costs. I feel better understanding this. It's the small things in life, really.

Fer cryin' out loud, did I just write a whole paragraph about this hat? I desperately need a life."

If you have followed the forums, where there is a thread that's currently at more than 400 posts that relates to not just Esquire's hats, but poetry about Esquire's hats, you'll know why I no longer feel that I'm the only one who needs a life.

"Loud Pushy Frank says he's 'going to punch [Margarita] in the top of the head' for saying she'd seen a sign for the museum. She's trying to explain that she hadn't meant to commit the entire group to an hours-long hunt for said sign, but the LPFrank ego is not hearing it. 'You're lying,' he says flatly. 'You told everybody you saw a Songwe Museum sign.' 'I said I THOUGHT I did,' she clarifies. Bitterly, she adds, 'Thanks for your support, Frank, by the way.' A flock of birds flies over and drops a pile of leaves on Margarita's head, and on each leaf is a letter. Margarita fails to notice that they spell 'GET A DIVORCE. MARGARITA, THIS MEANS YOU.'"

Apparently, Frank was drunk during this exchange. No, really.

"Okay, total sidebar. I love the kiss-kiss. There is no way to adequately express how much I love it. Men who kiss-kiss? Are my heroes. When I visited Spain at the ripe old age of 17, I met lots of boys -- high school boys, boys my own age -- who kiss-kissed. I was never so happy with boys in all my life. (That, actually, is not saying much, but nevertheless, I am surprisingly sincere.) All men should be required to kiss-kiss. Or at least to kiss-kiss me. It should be a law. I'm just saying."

And you know what? With all the contestants and posters and everybody I've met this season as a result of the recaps, not a single person kiss-kissed me. It's almost impossible for me to believe, but it's the truth. My heart broke every time. It's a terrible oversight, and rather a crushing blow. I remain angry at everyone.

"Bill insists on jumping on it, which is not such a good idea, because it's wet and slippery. He wipes out and lands on the ground, and once again we learn that for all the classic wit the world has ever produced -- for all your Dorothy Parkers and your Will Rogerses and Ogden Nashes -- there's always room for a guy racking himself."

Rob also racked himself at the little mat. You can actually tell if you watch the tape carefully. I probably wouldn't have noticed this, except that someone on the boards pointed out to me. Rob was not happy with this person, whose identity I am sworn to protect, because the Stompers already know where to find him.

"EDG develops its first official Cracks of Discord as Frank and Margarita see Team Esquire jump into a cab without them, and then have to wait to get one of their own. It's not an unambiguous abandonment, but it appears to worry the Danzas. Frank is misanthropic enough that he's not crazy about the whole alliance thing anyway, so this is playing into his every paranoid fantasy."

This was apparently a huge issue for Loud Pushy Frank. Something about the police had stopped them, and Esquire ran off, and he and Margarita got delayed, and blah blah blahRob and Brennan claim they didn't mean anything by it, but LPFrank, I think, honestly believed that Esquire was attempting to ditch him, and I don't think he ever got over it. From this point on, he was looking for trouble from the boys, and he usually was able to find some. If this one encounter had not occurred, I have to wonder whether things would have turned out completely differently between these two teams.

"Rob dimly points out that 'life is a game of minutes.' Oh, go sew a mother-of-pearl button on your fly, Mr. Dramatic-Flairy-Pants. I admit that you're hot, but you're not too bright, so smile pretty and don't talk a lot."

This is actually the insult directed at Rob for which I have the most personal affection, because when we first met, he brought this one up as his personal favorite. He claimed to have found it very funny, and although I don't think I believed him at the time, I believe him now.

"Frank needs some French on a sign translated, so he yells for Margarita. 'Do you need me?' she calls back from off-camera where, in my imagination, she's making out with Rob. 'I just need your brain, I don't need your emotions,' he responds, completely gratuitously. As she straightens her clothes and wipes the attorney smell off her face, she protests with a chuckle that in fact, she is a person and not a dinner menu, and that LPFrank can't expect to order up certain aspects of her personality a la carte."

I have no idea where this, my favorite imaginary storyline, even came from. It had something to do with the fact that Frank was over talking to Brennan and that left Rob somewhere talking to Margarita and they happened not to be on camera. That was all it took to get my imagination rolling, and all of a sudden it was The Secret Love Of Margarita And Rob. Rob was kind enough, at Dinnercon, to throw his arm around her and yell for me from quite a distance so that I could observe it in person. Nice of him, wasn't it?

"Team Guido comes running up and step (a bit more carefully than last time) on the yellow mat. 'Welcome,' intones the mayor. 'You are --' Joe breaks in. 'We're team number three!' 'You are team number four,' the mayor corrects. Joe's face crumples in this way that's justentirely too funny for me to adequately describe. It's like he just got the telegram that Guido the dog has come down with heartworm."

For a dog that, based on size, could almost be a rat, I have to say Guido is totally adorable. And I couldn't have been more impressed to learn that he goes skiing.

"The boys work their way down the mountain, and voice-over that they called ahead the night before for a taxi. Said taxi arrives at the bottom of the hill, where Frank and Margarita -- just a few minutes ahead of Esquire -- attempt to steal it. When the taxi driver clarifies that he's responding to a reservation, Frank, who knows perfectly well that he has no reservation, tries to tell the cabbie it's him and Margarita who called for the cab. Fortunately, the taxi driver -- who gives better customer service than my bank -- actually checks ID, which means Rob and Brennan are able to make it down and claim their ride."

'Twas no coincidence that the cab driver checked ID. I learned at some point that when Esquire called the night before for their cab, they specifically knew that Frank and Margarita were leaving just ahead of them, and they were concerned that confusion might ensue, which is why they told the cab driver not to let anyone in the cab unless they showed a passport. Pretty smart for guys who still looked like dimwits at this point in the race, wasn't it?

"Rob voices over that the stress level of the game is increasing, and we are given a random, completely gratuitous shot of him in his stateroom without his shirt on. Mmm, shoulders. Unfortunately, he just keeps talking, and now he's babbling about how the clues and locations are getting more difficult. Worst of all, he's wearing his sunglasses both backwards AND perched on top of his head. That is not good, Rob."

It was at this point that the show seriously started pushing the eye-candy angle on the attorneys. Indeed, the stateroom shot was gratuitous. A good idea, but gratuitous. Rob has some theory that this upside-down sunglasses thing has something to do with his history in baseball, but it makes absolutely no sense to me when I hear him explain it. ["I bought that explanation, actually -- the glasses stay on better over a baseball cap if you wear them upside-down. Or something. It sounded plausible at the time." -- Sars] I have never in my life seen a baseball player with upside-down sunglasses sitting on top of his head. I personally think it has to do with Rob's generally questionable fashion sense, but I am open to other suggestions.

"They're sort of sitting around drinking and yakking and acting like goofs -- hey, this could be an MBTV staff meeting!"

If you were at the TARcon, you know how true this is.

"Esquire is wandering aimlessly. For whatever reason, they don't seem to be chattering constantly into the W-T the way they should be. Did they not get the game? It kinda makes a girl wonder."

The batteries in their walkie-talkies were dead when they got there, as it turns out. It explains a lot.

"And along here, we get our first shot of Rob in his blue-tinted sunglasses. Man, these are as bad as the hat. Okay, they're not as bad as ALL of the hats. They're as bad as the backwards baseball hat. They're not as bad as the Hat I Am Obsessed With Hating (hereinafter the Hating-Hat). But they're very...I don't know whether I want to say Elton John, or, like, Warren ZevonI know! They look like something the one of the members of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem would wear. Dude, Rob is in the Muppets' rock band."

Rob harassed me from this point forward about which Muppet I had claimed wore the blue-tinted sunglasses. Of course, a quick perusal of my The Muppet Movie DVD revealed that no member of the band actually wears them. I still believe I was right in spirit, and I remain hopeful that Rob will not sue me for defamation.

"Kevin pulls up in the sports car, and he and Rob meet up. You can see them immediately get to checking out the Italian girl who's serving as the hostess. Dogs! I'm just saying. Actually, if you watch carefully, you can see their big cartoon tongues unfurl and land on the pavement. Listen for the 'thwap.'"

Kevin in particular has continued to display and discuss a lingering weakness for the lovely Sara.

"Now, if somebody can help me understand what the Guidos do here, I certainly hope they will. They inquire about the bus to Krabi, and they're told that it's five hundred miles, and they can't get a bus until SIX O'CLOCK that night. It's, like, 10:00 in the morning when they hear this. It seems to me that you CAN'T take that as your option. To sit around all day like that? You can't. They ask about taxis and are told that it would be too expensive, so they just decide to wait for the 6:00 bus. I don't know whether they're really even more broke than they seemed last time, or whether they're confused about other teamsI mean, at the very LEAST, they've got to assume all the other teams will catch up to them in the eight hours. They've got to assume that the tasks remaining will probably not take that long, so at the very least, they're giving in to the Bunching. Why do they seem so willing to take this lying down? They can't be THAT broke, because they talk about killing their eight hours by going to a cheap hotel and sitting and having an iced tea and a shower. (Joe refers to this as 'air-conditioned splendor.') Indeed, we see them in what appears to be a hotel room. Guys, seriously. What are you thinking? There's no time for splendor. There's no time for freshness. There's CERTAINLY no time for iced tea."

As Bill explained it to me, Guido was simply led astray by the bus ticket lady. They asked her whether they could get a taxi, and she told them they couldn't, and they believed her. He described it as a sort of a whammy, where they became transfixed by her charm and failed to notice that she, as a bus ticket lady, had a conflict of interest in explaining the travel options. Still, I think the fact that they were broke was a factor -- if you have a wad of cash, you're a lot less likely to take it lying down when you learn that you're going to have to sit on your butt for eight hours while everybody catches up to you, or worse.

"Now Bill and Joe get strapped into their motorcycle. The helmets, of course, look perfect on them, because they match. Furthermore, Joe has his helmet on at a jaunty angle, which I find hysterically funny. 'You doing okay, honey?' Bill asks Joe. 'This is a make-it-or-break-it day for us,' Joe snots back. Aaargh. They're riding with Bill's hand on Joe's shoulder, which is cute. Evil, but cute. (Don't ask me what 'evil, but cute' means. It baffles me, too.)"

I talked to Bill at Dinnercon about the fact that I suffered from confusion about the Guidos when they showed them being relationshippy, which I always found so cute. He and I agreed that showing too much relationship stuff would have interfered with their position as Designated Epicenters Of Evil, so that's probably why it wasn't shown more.

"Best! Edit! EVER! We are now in the City of Utter Irrelevance, in the Great State of Denial. Frozen tundra. Snow-covered mountains. Whistling wind. Barking dogs. Weeping-thumping music. Teeeeeeeam Guido! They're waiting to take off in their dogsled, and they open a piece of route information. Bill reads it out loud: 'Rob and Brennan have crossed the finish line.' They look stricken, and then they try smiling. It doesn't work too terribly well."

You should have heard the noise in the bar when this edit happened. It sounded like this, although you'd really have to have been there to completely appreciate it: "Ohhhhhh -- OHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Heh. ["Even Mr. Stupidhead and his friend, who 1) had had several beers prior to meeting us at Magee's, 2) had never seen the show before, and 3) like the rest of us, couldn't really hear anything, went, 'Ahhhh HA HA HAAAAA.' The edit was that good." -- Sars]

Miss Alli: Professional Recapper, Amateur Moron

You know, while I'm taking a spin through the recaps, and in the interest of fairness, I thought it would be fun to end with a quick peek at some of the stupidest things I wrote this season. I think I owe it to the contestants, don't you?

"Men of the world, let me give you a short quiz that will help you determine whether shaving your head is a good idea. Question one: Are you Michael Jordan? Question two: Are you Ed Harris? If you answered 'no' to both of these questions, you should not shave your head, lest you bear an unfortunate and striking resemblance to Team Shower-Fresh Scent here.

Ah, the nickname that never took off. Why? Too long, I suspect. The entire point of the team nicknames is that writing "Momily" is faster than writing "Nancy and Emily," "Guido" is faster than writing "Joe and Bill," et cetera. The posters on the forums knew better than I did on this one -- "Frats" was better.

"At any rate, this is where Kevin makes his comment, much hyped on the previews, about how the two of them are the ugly Americans, and 'there's definitely the potential for an international incident.' Oh, okay -- I chortled."

Look at me, grudgingly admitting that Kevin and Drew might be funny. That they might be funny.

"Amie has to get through the turnstile, an act she not only has trouble completing with her pack on, but also has to have EXPLAINED to her. No, really. She has to be told how to go. Through a turnstile. And it's not a magic turnstile, or a turnstile that needs an electronic keycard, or a turnstile with glass shards sticking out of it. It's the same kind they have at every baseball game, amusement park, and subway station on the planet Earth."

While in New York for the TARcon, I was at this very subway station, heading for JFK. And I went through the turnstile, and I totally needed help. I didn't smack into the turnstile like she did, but that's only because I needed help before I even got that far. Amie, you have my sympathies and my apologies.

"I immediately suspect that Lenny and Karen are the Mohammed-from-San-Francisco of this show."

Okay, two problems. First, I spelled her name wrong, just this one time. ["Hey, it's not like I caught it either." -- Sars] And I meant by this that they weren't going to be on very much. Good call!

"There's room for everyone. And keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle, too. What were you, born in a barn? Your face will freeze that way. There goes my mind, wandering again. At any rate, I'm still right about the cab-stealing. The availability of ground transportation, after all, has yet to be a major factor in this race."

Again, I think we should all pause and compliment me on my prescience. Obviously, there was no point during the race when your ability to grab a cab at a crucial moment was important. Boy, I love it when I know what I'm talking about. They should put me in charge of this show.

"HOWEVER, listen to Joe and Drew being interviewed as the episode closes. They both say basically the same thing -- all they have to worry about is making it to the final three. Put that together with Esquire's absolute lack of interest in the relative position of itself and Danza, and I'll give you a guess (first suggested by Miss Alli's Mom): The final three are re-bunched and start from scratch for the last two episodes, with no existing leads maintained. That would be a very reasonable hedge on the producers' part against the possibility that somebody would come up with a large lead, and it would also go along with one of the main themes of this show, which has been that Bill and Joe cannot be prevented from winning, no matter what, because they have -- say it with me -- the Luck of the Evil. Unless you get a fresh start at the front end of the last leg, Bill and Joe are going to have a hard time winning, and since I've got them pegged as the winners, I think this must be the way it goes."

Again, please stand back and be in awe of my predictive and analytical abilities. The blinding glow they create may hurt your eyes.

So that's the dish. Thanks to everybody who made the TARcon a success, including and especially the contestants, who have helped make this a very interesting season, to say the least. To everyone else, we still have a few things up our Mighty Big Sleeves to close out the season, and then we'll see you all back here for TAR 2.