Carbon Creek

Eh. I wasn't wowed by this episode. There were a few funny (albeit not very original) moments, but they managed to show them in previews, so I was pretty bored by them once I actually saw the ep. I did like the way they colored and styled Blalock's hair, and the costuming was accurate and interesting. Even though it's one of the labors of Hercules to find clothes from the fifties these days. The only thing I can say I was truly entertained by was the ambiguity as to whether or not T'Pol had really been pulling Quantum and Trip's collective leg for the past hour. Considering how many times Quantum allows Trip to get his jollies at the expense of T'Pol's dignity, I was glad to see her get her own back. I still can't believe I'm starting to champion her character, but she's growing on me, as long as she keeps her dinners sheathed. Just please don't start dating Braga, Jolene; he's such a weaselly putz.

Quantum, Trip, and T'Pol are sitting back, pouring a bottle of Arbor Mist Strawberry White Zinfandel to celebrate T'Pol's one year with the Enterprise crew. "Say when," Quantum grunts. After a finger of wine hits her glass, T'Pol says, "When." Quantum comments that he didn't realize she drank wine, and T'Pol tells him that "under the circumstances" she will "allow [herself] a small indulgence." Trip "Wino" Tucker asks for a "large indulgence." "So, when Vulcans drink, do their faces flush green?" Mathra wonders, as Quantum toasts T'Pol in a way that resembles the stuff they make tables out of. They clink. I drink. T'Pol says she appreciates the sentiment, but she's only doing her job. Quantum tells her that's not small potatoes considering that no Vulcan has been able to stand the stench of a human ship for more than two weeks. "Ten days," T'Pol corrects him. Quantum says he's been filling out her annual crew evaluation. "Just a formality," he stiffs. "I understand. The High Command has requested my evaluation of you," T'Pol responds. "Just a formality." Quantum seems a bit nonplussed, but goes on to ask her personal questions. He wants to know why she took a trip to Carbon Creek, PA while she was stationed in San Francisco. He's of the opinion that it was an odd place to take a vacation. Because he's the Vacation Judge. T'Pol comments that Vulcans don't go on vacations. Quantum still wants to know why she went there. "Is this part of my evaluation?" T'Pol wonders. No, Quantum's just nosy. T'Pol tells him it was a "personal matter." "Yew had uh 'personal matter' in Carbin Crick, Penn-sil-vain-ya?" Trip asks. Quantum bluffs that if T'Pol doesn't want to tell them, she doesn't have to. "Seems a little unfar. We tell her plenny of store-ees," Trip says. Trip, no one asked you to tell anyone any of that stuff. In fact, since you brought it up, we'd much rather if you kept it all to yourself. Especially during dinner. When your mouth is full. "You want me to tell you a story?" T'Pol questions. "Ef et's a gud wun," Trip says. Picky, picky. Quantum grins while chawing on some bread roll. T'Pol closes her eyes briefly and says, "I went to Carbon Creek because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck all the marrow out of life --" Any Walden lovers out there? Or at the very least Dead Poets Society lovers? Okay, so T'Pol didn't really Thoreau up; she just said that she only went there because she wanted to visit the site of first contact with humans and Vulcans. Hee. Look at the pretty marks on the wall where Trip and Quantum's heads exploded. They both try to tell her that she's wrong by half a country, a bunch of years, AND a statue -- before you laugh, remember how important a statue was to last week's history? Okay, now you can laugh. But T'Pol corrects them by telling them that she (and the Vulcans) know differently, since it was her "second fore mother" who was one of the first contacters. "Yer who?" Trip asks. Clearly, Trip needs the Universal Translator welded to his hammer, stirrup, or anvil. I know what she's talking about. T'Pol explains, "My mother's mother's mother." Trip drinks deeply (as do I), and Quantum does bit of furrowing on the side. "Would you like to hear the story?" T'Pol asks, gathering them both onto her knee.

Russell Watson sings a song of sixpence, which incidentally is the net worth of this song.

Vulcan ship above Earth as Sputnik chuggles by. Vulcan ship has major technobabblage problems, as T'Pol's voice-over explains that the Vulcans had gone to Earth to investigate the launch of the Russian satellite, but had the aforementioned technobabbling problems and were forced to crash-land. There's a scene of Vulcans (including Blalock, playing her gr'gr'mother with a dye job) in p'leathers, trying to "compensate" for the problems before deciding to crash-land. Right before they tear through the atmosphere, the Vulcans send a distress call. "Thank you for calling the Vulcan High Command Hotline. You've selected 'Emergency Crash-Landing Distress Call.' If you know the name of the pre-warp planet you are about to contaminate, press one. Thank you. ["Girl From IP'Nema" plays] Due to unusually high distress volume, the current wait is a whole episode. Please go forth and attempt to fit into the pre-warp culture by wearing their clothes and being unintentionally comical with anachronistic questions about their pop culture, and we will take your call in the order in which it was received. Thank you for calling the Vulcan Distress Hotline. If you need to make reservations in town for your kohlinahr or pon farr, please consider the Motel 6 in Vulcington V.C. -- we'll leave our plaktau out for you." They crash in a wooded area. The captain dies, leaving T'Pol's gr'gr'mother in command. How conveeenient.

Enterprise. Quantum asks T'Pol why the Vulcans kept all this on the Q't. T'Pol says, "The incident is well-documented at the Science Directorate and the Space Council." "On Vulcan?" Trip asks. No, up your butt and two doors down. "Of course," T'Pol answers. Trip's kompletely kerflummoxed because he can't do his Vulcan generational math. Quantum pours another glass of Boone's Farm Exposition Hill and reminds him that Vulcans are long-lived. Trip asks, "Just how old are you?" It's the second season and they're already repeating lines, word for pathetic word. It wasn't that good the first time, so why keep reminding us? And is it really necessary to always make Trip the addle-pated crewmember with the IQ of a dead flashlight battery? Quantum says, "Trip, that's classified information," but furrows The Furrow Of Good-Natured Captainly Reproach. Quantum attempts to get T'Pol drunk by pouring her more wine -- which for some reason makes it into my glass instead -- and entreats her to go on.

T'Pol tells them that the three surviving Vulcan ETs had no way of knowing if their distress signal had made it through the waiting period, and they had eaten up all their rations, so they were none too chipper. T'Nana uses her scanner to tell them that there are two lifeforms approaching. Suspense. Suspense. Oh, it's only Bambi's mother and aunt. One of the Vulcans suggests eating the deer, but the other two Vulcans are completely horrified by such barbarism. The Vulcan who saw v'nison on the menu and liked it mentions that there's a "settlement" nearby. T'Nana boycotts this, saying, "If we're exposed, we could contaminate their culture." "And if they find our bodies after we starve -- will that contaminate their culture?" C'Rnivore asks. The third Vulcan, who doesn't really amount to much in this episode, says that it is better for the humans to find a mystery than three living aliens. Man, do they take their Prime Directive seriously or what? Kind of like New Hampshire: "Contaminate Not or Die." T'Nana tells C'Rnivore that it's too dangerous, but C'Rnivore is willing to risk it, and walks off. "Remain here," T'Nana tells T'Extra, and runs after C'Rnivore, calling "Mestral!"

Scenes of a dusty old town with old cars, filmed in Almost But Not Quite Sepia Tones Of Bygone Days. A carved wooden sign says, "Carbon Creek. Population 669." T'Nana and Mestral crouch in a gully and watch the humans. "How do you suggest we proceed?" T'Nana asks. She's the captain; shouldn't she suggest? Mestral tells her they need to get some different threads so their ensembles don't scream "aliens wearing generation's p'leathers!" They find a convenient wash line, and T'Nana undresses behind a conveniently hanging sheet in order to show her conveniently naked silhouette. I know this is supposed to be tit-illating, but all I can think of is Garth doing that impersonation of the silhouette man in Madonna's "Justify My Love" video. If you look really closely, you can see her scars through the sheet. Guess they didn't find a convenient M'denform on that clothesline. For that matter, I guess Vulcans don't find undergarments to be logical, because it should not have been an issue for her to wear a Vulcan W'nderbra under the Earth clothes -- no one would have seen it. T'Nana lectures Mestral that they are only there to procure food; they will keep contact with humans to "an absolute minimum." Mestral pulls a knit hat over his ears as T'Nana instructs him that, when necessary, she will do all the talking to the humans. T'Nana walks around the sheet, now fully clothed in a plaid dress, which is on the wrong way around. Mestral makes a face. "What is it?" T'Nana asks. "I believe you have that garment on...backwards," Mestral tells her. That will be the first of many times that Mestral "knows better" than his commanding officer. T'Nana looks down and then turns around -- showing a little back with no bra fastener -- to walk back to her dressing room for an adjustment. Can I get a judge's ruling on this? Her Vulcan p'leather uniform consisted of a jacket and pants that both zipped up the front, and she couldn't figure out that a dress buttoned up the front? Bermaga really are out to take the V'ENSA cards away from every last Vulcan.

Mestral and T'Nana walk through the town. It appears that someone felt the need to hang out some pumps to dry on that Convenient Clothesline, because T'Nana's wearing them. Mestral is attracted by something, and walks over to catch a radio sportscaster calling a baseball game where a player named Thomson gets tagged out at home plate, much to the listeners' chagrin. Assuming that it's Bobby Thomson of the NY Giants, I'd have thought the listeners would be happy about the out. I mean, wouldn't it be a Giants-Pirates game they're tuned to? ["And why would they pick Thomson to illustrate the baseball of the fifties? Sure, Thomson's famous -- for a single home run, which he didn't even hit against the Pirates. Shouldn't they have used Ralph Kiner, a Hall of Famer of that era who actually played in Pittsburgh? Twelve seconds on Google and they could have made that sequence a lot more believable." -- Sars] "Some type of combat, no doubt," T'Nana comments. "I believe it may be an entertainment," Mestral corrects her. Again. They decide that as there's not much action on the street, they'll duck into the local pub for a swift half. T'Nana reminds Mestral to keep his yap buttoned. A country song whines on the jukebox as some local yokels stop playing pool pointedly enough to take notice of the newcomers' entrance. Ruh-roh!

T'Nana and Mestral make their way to the bar and observe a human paying for his drinks with money. "Currency," T'Nana tells Mestral. "Yes, the paper appears to have value," Mestral notes. The middle-aged bar chick asks the Vulcans if they want anything; T'Nana pushes an ashtray away with distaste and inquires if she has anything "that doesn't require currency." "You mean, 'free'?" Bar Chick asks. She pushes a bowl of bar snacks their way. At least they're relatively vegetarian. Except for the animal lard. A local companionably asks what brings them into town, and T'Nana curtly explains that they had an accident with their "vehicle" on the outskirts of town. As she brings over some glasses of water, Bar Chick asks if they're okay. "We're fine," T'Nana tells her. Again with the curtness. "You folks married?" Bar Chick asks brightly. It was here I noticed the similarity and put it together with the "Cusack" in the opening credits. Of course, she's a sister to Joan and John. T'Nana tells Bar Cusack that they're "business associates," and Local tells them that he'd be darn tootin'ly happy to give them a lift to the gas station. T'Nana tells him they don't need help. "Soot yerself," Local drawls, and peels out to shoot pool. What are the chances that a relative of T'Pol's would meet a relative of Trip's in Pennsylvania?

As Local asks if anyone is up for a game, stakes being a quarter a ball, Hank Harris walks in with "Precocious Teen" written all over him and volunteers his pocket change to Local in exchange for a rack-up. Local tells Precocious Teen that he needs to get his mother's permission, so Precocious Teen asks Bar Cusack if it's okay. She orders him to go upstairs and do his homework. Precocious Teen, being precocious, obeys. Against T'Nana's express wishes, Mestral decides he should give the game a go. "I can defeat him," Mestral says. "You don't even know the rules," T'Nana argues. "It's simple," Mestral tells her, and walks over to Local, who says, "I thought you didn't have enny money." "He doesn't," T'Nana tells him. Local tells him that in that case, there's nothing "in it" for him. Mestral and T'Nana make to leave until Local calls them back and tells them that he'll play Mestral, on the condition that if he loses, he'll pay in full, but if he wins, he gets a drink with Mestral's "business associate." T'Nana is annoyed. "The game is based on simple geometry. It wouldn't challenge a Vulcan child," Mestral assures T'Nana, and reminds her that they need the money. T'Nana is still against it: "What if you lose? I'll have to socialize with him." Mestral looks at Local, who harmlessly waggles his eyebrows at him. "Would you rather die of starvation?" Mestral asks T'Nana. "Besides, it's just like Dom-Jot," Mathra comments, carefully removing clumps of puff pastry dough from Hunca Munca's paws.

There's the break, and it looks like Local may beat Mestral, but no, Mestral makes the comeback to back all comebacks. In fact, he even calls his final anvil. "The number eight ball in that pocket," he says, pointing with his cue. T'Nana and Mestral walk off into the sunset with four bags of groceries. "Cryogenics," Mestral says, displaying one of the frozen dinners in his bag. No, not T'Nana's -- actual dinners. And NOT Ted Williams, either. And by the way, for those of you out there who still believe the fable that Walt is a Disney Pop? Hate to burst your bubble, but Grandpa Keckler went to the funeral and read the eulogy, and though the man may have been cold, he wasn't pricing real estate in meat lockers, okay? Mestral wonders if the humans have "experimented" with replicators. T'Nana acidly tells him that he should have asked the shopkeeper, since he's so eager to interact with all the humans in town. She stomps off ahead of him as fast as her little Easy Spirits can carry her.

"I think that wine's gone to your head," Trip tells me. Or maybe it was T'Pol he was addressing. I don't know, because the wine has gone to my head. T'Pol asks what he's implying. "Two Vulcans stroll into a bar --" "Wait! I think I know this one, the punch line is 'But the Ferengi in the gorilla suit has got to go!'" Mathra crows, Groucho-ing his eyebrows. Trip continues that he doesn't buy two Vulcans hustling some locals in pool so they can go out and buy TV dinners. "It sounds like an old episode of the Twilight Zone," Trip yuks. Man, there's a lot of sediment in this glass of Wednesday night line-up anvil. T'Pol's about to flounce off in a snit, but Quantum persuades her to keep on Scheherezading them.

"They realized they couldn't rely on gambling, so they took whatever employment they could find, " T'Pol VOs, as we see T'Nana sweeping up the bar floor, and T'Left Behind At Crash Site struggling to repair a dripping sink. He gets frustrated, so he pulls out some non-Depression-era Vulcan tool and aims it at the leaky pipe. Mestral is shown working in the mines, and T'Pol VOs that as time went on, it seemed unlikely the Vulcans had ever received their distress call. "And it became more difficult for them to avoid the humans," T'Pol finishes, as we get a view of an old television set reporting the testing of a nuclear bomb in New Mexico. "Nothing like an atomic test to make your day," Bar Mom (formerly "Bar Cusack") comments, switching off the television. Mestral, who is sitting at the bar, asks her, "Doesn't it concern you?" Bar Mom tells him it "scares the hell out of [her]." "I'd hate to see humanity destroy itself," Mestral says gravely. Bar Mom couldn't agree more, as Precocious Teen walks up and asks if he and Mestral can play a game of pool. "Ja-ack," Bar Mom says, reprovingly. "I've got a geometry midterm week, it's good practice," Jack states matter-of-factly. Savvy Bar Mom tells him there are better ways to study math. Mestral asks Jack if he is interested in the maths. Jack says, "It's what I want to study at college -- Mechanical Engineering, if I get to go." "You will," Bar Mom says, and turns to Mestral. "He got a scholarship." Jack hastens to add that it's not a full scholarship. "It's still a scholarship and you worked hard for it," Bar Mom says. She rattles a gallon jar full of change on the bar and tells Mestral that everyone is pitching in to send him to college. So, is this kid the first of their Cripple Creek tribe to go to college? Mestral takes this all in. Bar Mom, softened by her pride in her phenom son, tells him he can shoot one rack with the Vulcan before he gets to his homework.

In a dowdy living room, T'Nana irritably flips through a book while Mestral seems entranced by a Western television show. T'Nana is probably known around town as a Sweater Girl, since she's wearing a dinner-outlining yellow button-up cardigan with embroidery on the lapel. I sorta covet it. Heh -- Mestral's even got his hands pressed together at the fingertips, as though he's almost meditating in front of the TV. Too bad it's not the late sixties; they could have seen themselves on TV. T'Left Behind At Crash Site walks in, carrying a toolbox and plunger. He sighs and tells the other two Vulcans, "This is the third time this week I've had to fix Mrs. Garrett's sink." Wonder if she hangs around in a black negligee and offers to make him drinks. Without taking his eyes off the tube, Mestral comments it might be because she "enjoys [his] company." T'Left sighs again and says, "It might be tolerable if her son didn't insist on calling me 'Moe.'" T'Nana sulkily asks why he does that. "There is a comic actor known as a 'Stooge' with that name. He believes we have similar hair," T'Left tells her, quite evidently feeling put upon. "There is a resemblance," Mestral affirms. T'Moe sighs again, tucking his hair back to expose his pointy ears, and crabs, "This is intolerable, I'm a warp field engineer." Who plunges toilets. Sounds like a few M.I.T. grads I know. Now, if T'Moe and T'Nana can grow their hair out to hide their ears, why can't Mestral do the same and get rid of that stanky knit wool hat? He's not Dumb Donald. What is he going to do during the summer?

T'Nana stands up and pushes her book at T'Moe, requesting that he help her construct a subspace transceiver. "I told you, it's impossible," T'Moe says, handing her book back. "If we remain here we'll die, this world is on the brink of self-annihilation," T'Nana tells T'Moe. Mestral calls out that he doesn't believe that. T'Nana spins on her heel to look at him and snots, "Because your fascination with this species is blinding you. You sit for hours each day in front of this...idiotic device." She gives the idiotic device a malevolent stare. Mestral says he's doing research and that if T'Nana observed the humans at all, she might not be so down on them. "Open your eyes," T'Nana tells him. "They revel in violence. They devote what little technology they have to devising ways of killing each other." Heh. It's funny cuz it's true. Mestral reminds her that they were the same way centuries ago, and says that humans just haven't realized their "potential." "What 'potential'?" T'Nana asks. "They have great empathy and compassion. Look how we've been made to feel welcome," Mestral says. T'Moe pauses in his fiddling with a toaster to glance up. He must be thinking of Mrs. Garrett. Who, in my mind, is Edna Garrett from Facts of Life. T'Nana snittily snaps off the television and tells him that the humans wouldn't be so quick with the welcome wagon and casseroles if they knew they were from another planet. Mestral gets up and put on his knit hat -- red this time -- and jacket. "Where are you going?" T'Nana demands. Mestral tells her he's going to the ship, because their antenna is "inadequate." "I believe I can use a waveform discriminator to enhance it," he explains. Vulcans, the first cable bootleggers. T'Nana takes his coat away and tells him he'll have to go after dark in order to prevent being followed. "I need to go now," Mestral counters, taking his jacket back. "I Love Lucy is on tonight." He leaves. She's not that great of a commanding officer, is she? She has no control over Mestral, and she can't get T'Moe to do any technobabbling to save her life.

Mestral walks across the street, and Bar Mom pulls up in a car and tells him he's right on time. Mestral gets into the car with her, and they drive off. On the other side of the street, wearing a plaid lumberjill coat, T'Nana watches them leave town.

I love how Shannon Elizabeth refused to do a nude scene in American Pie II because she didn't want to be typecast. Good thing she dodged that bullet by wearing a towel in the new Twilight Zone this week.

Mestral and Bar Mom drive back into town and discuss the ballgame they just saw. Mestral found it "invigorating," and Bar Mom asks him out for the game. "Or we could do something else -- take in a movie?" Bar Mom offers. "That would be enjoyable," Mestral says seriously. Bar Mom asks if she can ask Mestral something. "What are you hiding under that cap? A pointed head? You're not from Mars, are you?" Wow, dig her practicing for the Tactlessness Championship coming up week. Mestral draws back from her in horror, and Bar Mom quickly realizes her mistake in assuming that Mestral had a sense of humor. She apologizes and says she didn't mean to make fun of him. "I am not offended," he tells her, and then asks her where her "mate" is. Turns out Bar Daddy left her and Phenom Jack a long time ago. "Jack used to get letters from him every now and then. The last we heard he'd moved to Phoenix," Bar Mom goes on, and then does a very clumsy tone change to bitter dregs: "I was hoping he would help with Jack's college, but I guess we're on our own." Oh, Lord -- please don't make Jack turn out to be some famous historical anvil that got by with a little help from his aliens. Bar Mom says she can understand why Bar Daddy wouldn't want to have anything to do with her, but -- she stops herself and sighs, apologizing for her excessive disclosure of personal details too trite for us to care about. "I'm usually better at keeping a lid on my emotions, it's not always easy," Bar Mom confides. There's a cave-in at the mine due to an early fall of the anvil foliage. Mestral says, "I know." He's got a really green face -- much greener than T'Nana's or T'Moe's. I wonder if they use Physicians Formula to powder him between takes.

There's an awkward silence, and Bar Mom says she has to get back to pulling beer. "Will I see you later?" she asks. Mestral looks her in the eye and nods. More awkward pausing. Bar Mom finally leans over and kisses him. Where is Trip's interruption asking, "Hold it, hold it! What is this? Are you trying to trick me? Is this a kissing book?" Mestral is taken aback and pulls away. Embarrassed, Bar Mom stammers her apologies, saying she thought he wanted it. Yeah, well, even in the fifties, no means no, lady. Mestral says, "Please, I was simply surprised. It was -- very pleasant." Okay, Data. And while you were calculating just how much pressure to safely apply to her lips, were you also figuring out a new nutritional supplement for Spot and scanning the complete works of Charles Dickens? "'Pleasant'?" Bar Mom repeats incredulously. "Wasn't that an appropriate response?" Mestral wonders. "Well, it's been a awhile since I kissed a man but still, I was hoping it'd be a little bit more than 'pleasant,'" Bar Mom complains. Mestral thinks a bit and says, "I did say 'very pleasant.'" Bar Mom smiles weakly and looks out the front window. "We've got company," she tells him. I half expected to see a few burly coal-besmirched miners to bearing down on them, ready to thrash the newcomer for trifling with the emotions of the vulnerable single mother; I thought that might lead to some suspicious feats of strength (hee -- Festivus for the rest of us!) on Mestral's part. Sadly, no. It's just T'Nana standing on the other side of the street, watching them. Stalk much? Has she been standing in the same place since they left? Her legs are even spread about hips-width apart in an offensive stance. Mestral sighs and says he should go. Before getting out of the car he says, "Thank you, again." Bar Mom watches him walk over to his "business associate" and then drives off. Not stopping to greet T'Nana, Mestral passes her and continues down the street. T'Nana gives Bar Mom's car a final glare before following Mestral in order to throw "Waveform discriminator?" at his back. Mestral tells her he went to a baseball game in Doylestown. "More 'research'?" T'Nana twits him. "Maggie invited me," Mestral tells her. "I didn't think it would be a problem." "Then why did you lie about it?" T'Nana asks.

Okay, there's been a great amount of fanwhinge over the whole Vulcans Can't Lie concept, which has been so irregular throughout all the series and movies that it's impossible to know whether Vulcans physically cannot lie or if they just think it's illogical ever to do it. Spock, Tuvok, and Kim Cattrall have all gotten away with the whole "I wasn't lying, I was being creative with the truth," thing while there have been other occasions where it's mentioned -- not necessarily by Vulcans -- that Vulcans "can't" lie. In this particular case, I'd argue that Mestral's lying came about because he's showing obvious signs of being a lapsed Vulcan -- the excessive interest in humans, his constant interaction with and defense of the humans, potentially becoming emotionally involved with one of them -- and is just getting lazy with Vulcan practices as a result. Now, before I decide to write my thesis on this instead of on the wines of the greater Spitgully region of Yemen, back to the snark!