Joan and Luke are at the stove, making breakfast. Luke's created an extremely perfect-looking pancake, while Joan is torturing some puffy, gloppy mess. Kevin wheels by, remarking, "Pan-cakes, Joan, not pan-bricks." Joan complains that she followed the directions. Luke holds his pancake aloft on a spatula, admiring it: "Ah, eureka!" It is thin and an appetizing golden brown. Joan demands to know how he did that. Luke: "It's a chemical equation. It's all about conducting heat. Joan, you're not going to get any molecular movement with Teflon." Whatever, Rocket Boy. I make pancakes in a Teflon pan and it works just fine. Joan: "You learned how to cook in AP Chem? Since when?" Luke explains, "The whole flame-on-the-flask idea? That's cooking." Joan grouses that all she's learned how to make in AP Chem is soap. Kevin: "Looks like what you're doing right now." Joan smacks him lightly.
Their parents walk in wearing their robes, and Helen wonders, "All right...who wrecked a car, flunked a class...?" The kids are surprised they're up instead of sleeping in as they usually do on Saturdays. Helen: "We smelled smells, and since I'm usually the smell-maker in the kitchen, we got suspicious." Will squints at a vase: "Are those flowers?" Luke: "Weeds." Kevin invites them to have a seat and says they're preparing a surprise. He asks if anyone wants coffee; Will does. Kevin turns to his siblings and asks if anyone knows how to make coffee. Blank stares. Not bred for self-sufficiency, these Girardi kids. And no radar. Not much in the way of survival skills at all. It's a good thing they all live at home. Helen offers to make it, but Kevin insists that she sit down. He asks Luke, "How many cakes you got going there?" Luke: "One, but it's perfect." Will, who seems a little cranky, suggests they skip the food and cut to the chase. Joan, holding a small decorative box, says, "We've been thinking..." Will: "Oh, that's a dangerous proposition." Helen: "Will..." He explains, "I was having a flying dream." Oh man -- flying dreams are awesome. I've only had a couple, but they're so amazing, I'd be pretty crabby if someone disturbed one, too. Well, I'd be crabby regardless, but that's a separate issue. Joan continues, "The point is, you guys used to go away for a married weekend -- once a year. Uh, whatever that means. Please, don't tell me." Helen and Will manage to smirk slightly to themselves and not quite make eye contact in deference to Joan's plea. She continues, saying that they haven't been away recently, and Will's job's been so stressful lately, what with nearly getting killed and getting fired... Both her parents chime in to say that he wasn't fired. Joan: "The point is, we think you should do that again. That is, go away and do whatever it is you do -- and again, please don't elaborate." She hands the box to Helen, who opens it to find a certificate for a weekend of full-service treatment at the Willow Hills Spa and Well-Being Center. How'd they get the money together for that? That's gotta be about a grand, at least, with an overnight stay. Seaweed ain't cheap. Helen seems pleased, but Will acts like he just got bumped up for gum surgery: "Spa? It's a nice idea but we can't." Helen wants to know why not. He replies, "I'm starting my new position. Who'll watch the kids?" Kevin snaps his fingers and jerks a thumb in his own direction. Will: "I don't spa." Hee. Although the verbification bugs. Helen urges him to thinking of it as sleeping in. His concern: "Would I have to get a facial?" It's a good thing this is on CBS and not HBO, or I might feel obliged to be a lot more crude here all of sudden. She promises him he can sit at the pool and read books all day long. Where do I sign up? She keeps wheedling him, saying they haven't had the married weekend for a long time, and adding, "Strip Scrabble..." Joan yelps: "Oh! Oversharing!" She puts her fingers in her ears. Kevin kinds of grunts, and Luke winces. Joan: "Take it or leave it." Helen whispers something to Will; they both grin, and he says, "We'll take it." I think she just said something about promising him a new riding lawn mower, myself, but they like to mess with the kids.
Adam emerges from the administrative office at school just as Joan passes by in the hall. He asks her, "What's up with your mom? She signed my late slip, no questions asked." Heh. Joan replies, "It's too creepy to discuss." Adam asks, "Your parents are getting divorced?" Where did that come from? What an odd guess. Joan: "Worse -- they're going on a married weekend, something the siblings and I devised thinking we were helping the universe. They've been goofy about it for days, smiling. Note to self: do not encourage parental unity." Adam smiles dreamily and says, "That was a nice thing to do." Joan: "Adam, they've been packing and saying things like, 'Should we even bother to bring real clothes? Are we even going to leave the room?'" Adam replies, "Well, you're promoting true intimacy, yo." How many sixteen-year-old boys can say the word "intimacy" without sniggering? Frankly, I've known a lot of men ten, fifteen years older than that who could barely say it without at least choking a bit. They're at his locker now, and she says, "It's my parents." He looks thoughtful for a moment and then asks, "Well, what about us?" Joan: "What about us?" Adam: "What about us?" Joan: "'What about us?'" Adam, getting a little annoyed: "What about us?" Joan: "Is it just me, or is this going nowhere?" Grace comes grooving past at that moment, and says in an almost singsong fashion: "Good news for AP Modern Man: anti-drug lecture in the multipurpose room trumps homeroom." Joan: "Drugs? Who even cares?" Grace says it's getting them out of homeroom. Adam asks, "Price's idea?" Grace says it was apparently Joan's mother's idea. Joan rolls her eyes and fumes, "Why do they let her have ideas?" She heads after Grace.
As they arrive in the darkened room, the lecture's already in progress. There's a guy in a lab coat onstage, showing a slides and saying, "Your brain is an elaborate network of chemicals, all firing and misfiring, working it out in perfect unison, like a dance. To introduce illegal pharmaceuticals, whether it be pot or crystal meth or ecstasy, is to interfere with a perfect system." Grace, Adam, and Joan all find separate seats in the crowd; Joan and Adam are a few seats apart in the same row. Helen smiles at the back of the room, pleased with herself and the turnout. The guy continues urging them not to interfere with the perfection and intricacy of their brains. We see Luke, who's on AV duty at the projector; he glances at Grace, who's playing with her forelock, bored senseless. Lab Coat Guy veers off into somewhat new territory: "Romantic love, for example, relies on a healthy breeding ground. Romantic love is a kind of mental illness." Sure, but it's the best one. Adam glances at Joan, who's paying attention to Lab Coat Guy. "You probably all know something about that." Price seems uncomfortable at this. "Should any of you be so fortunate as to experience a good kiss this year, you would know what I mean when I say the pineal gland opens up and releases valuable hormones..." Joan gives Adam a shy glance at this; he just looks at her kind of sadly. Lab Coat Guy carries on: "Your loins..." Helen raises her eyebrows; Price quickly moves to end the lecture. Nobody's going to be discussing loins on his watch. He thanks Dr. Halliwell for his "insight into human behaviour." Everyone gets up to leave.
As Joan leaves, she heads down the hall one way; Adam, just behind her, pauses to watch her go and then heads to his class. Dr. Halliwell -- man, he's tall -- comes right up to Joan and asks, "Did you like my speech, Joan?" Ah, it's Drugs Are Bad, Mm'kay? God. Joan: "'Drugs are bad?' That's not a new message. And since you're here...you invented drugs, didn't you?" Drugs Are Bad, Mm'kay? God replies, "I invented rattlesnakes. Doesn't mean I want you playing around with them." Joan reminds him she doesn't do drugs, so she's wondering what the assignment is: "You want me to keep...not doing drugs?" Drugs Are Bad, Mm'kay? God is kind of cute. ["He's a total Hey, It's That Guy!, too; he's always playing a doctor or a teacher. Anyone who watches Gilmore Girls might remember him on that show as Morey Dell." -- Sars] He says that's not a bad assignment, but he acknowledges that she's had to do a lot of difficult assignments, and advises her not to be surprised if he asks her to do something fun. He smiles a bit and waltzes off. Joan turns and says, "But see, nobody thinks of you as fun." He replies, "And that's the problem." He goes off with a Godwave. As the bell rings, Joan calls out, "Oh, and you're fun-ny."
Will's at work, telling his new boss Roy, "I don't have to go -- my wife would understand." Uh, no she wouldn't. Especially since you're not the boss anymore. Roy says with authority, "Will, I've been married. They understand until they don't -- then they pack." Will: "I hate spas." I'll bet he's been to a lot of them, too. Roy says he should go. They walk up to Toni as Roy asks if there's anything that can't be put on a back burner. She says no. Will mentions the meth lab. Roy: "There's a meth lab?" Will says, "There's always a meth lab." He explains that he and Toni have been staking out a particular one. Apparently they're about to move in, but Toni hesitantly says it can wait. Roy asks Will, "Can the meth lab wait?" He walks off before Will replies, "But this is a good one!" Will and Toni follow Roy into his office as Will makes a case for busting this one soon, and Roy asks again if it can wait. Toni says these labs are always ready to move if necessary. Roy looks at Will, who says, "I don't like strangers touching me. My wife will understand." Roy decides Will should go to the spa, and Toni can keep an eye on things; they'll move on the lab if necessary. Will doesn't think they should attempt it without him: "I've brought a few of these down." Roy says they can call him: "They do allow cell phones at this spa?" Will: "One can only hope."
Rebecca walks up to Kevin's desk and says, "You're too good for this." Kevin: "Excuse me?" She says that the research he wrote up on shoes and how they define a person made her laugh. So he's writing up research now, not just fact-checking? Well, people seem to wear multiple hats at this outfit. Rebecca says, "You should be writing essays." Kevin: "Well, I should be playing ball for Arizona. What's your point?" Rebecca: "Kevin...you have a real talent for writing. I know this, because judging writing's what I do for a living. You're wasted here." Kevin asks if he's being fired. Rebecca rolls her eyes and says, "I'm asking you to reach." He says he doesn't feel like reaching. She grabs a chair and sits down his desk, saying, "Whatever you and I have going on is a matter for the universe to handle. You're a born writer." Kevin: "Well, isn't that a nice way out?" Huh? Out of what? Rebecca replies, "Do you have any idea how many able-bodied people would kill for your skill as a writer?" Kevin: "No, tell me." He smiles and laughs slightly: "Tell me." She hesitates and says, "I'm attracted to you. You're attracted to me. Big deal. Isn't there a larger question to answer?" His eyes wander as if he's pretending to consider what this question might be. Or maybe he really is. She advises him, "Be who you are, Kevin. I'll support it." She stands up as he asks, "But what if I just want to kiss you?" Rebecca: "You'll have to catch me first." As she walks off, he says, "I'm in good shape. I've been playing basketball." Some uncharacteristically bright, tinkly music starts playing as we move into the scene.
Grace is squatting, perched at the top of a banister dividing a staircase in the hallway at school -- reading. As Joan comes around the corner and down the stairs, Grace slides down the banister right beside her. Hee! So very Grace. It's time for Frink's weekly declaration of love for Grace's character. She asks, "Dude...what did you do to Rove?" Joan replies, "Nothing. Why?" Grace hops off the end of the railing and says, "He's always been about you, okay, but now he thinks you're, like, a couple." Joan: "Oh...yeah." She doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Grace continues, "I don't advocate for teenage love, but I've known the dude since preschool. He's stupid about you." Joan claims she didn't do anything. Grace says she kissed him. Joan: "He kissed me, technically speaking." Grace laughs: "Good luck with that." She cuts in front of Joan and departs. Just then some other kid we've never seen, who bears some resemblance to Alfred E. Neumann, comes up and says, "Dude: your parents are out of town?" Joan: "Go away." He persists, asking if her parents are going away this weekend. Joan replies, "Don't make me beat you." I'll bet she could, too. He goes on, in a voice that makes me want to beat him: "You know what you do when your parents are away? Have a party, girlfriend!" "Girlfriend"? Joan turns and demands, "Who are you?" He says, in a more normal fashion, "Have a party." Joan says, "Right. You're you." Alfred E. Neumann God says, "Have a party. That's what kids do." He walks off. Joan suddenly brightens and says, "Oh, this is the fun part!" Alfred E. Neumann God just gives the Godwave.
After the commercial, Will's in the bedroom reading the spa brochure: "'The Dead Sea Mud Wrap: Your body will be gently dry-brushed to eliminate surface toxins and to exfoliate dead skin cells. Then you are wrapped in a warm mixture of mud, essential oils and seaweed.' This sounds like something I would pay to avoid." Helen reassures him, "You don't have to spa." Frink: "Stop using it as a verb!" Will: "But I have to go." Helen gives him a look; he says it wasn't a question, and claims he's looking forward to it. He says he's concerned about being absent from the job right now. Helen asks if he's worried they'll replace him. Will says Roy needs his guidance. Helen, who's busily packing, says, "It's a weekend, Will, and I'm starting to get hurt that you don't value some alone time with me. Right now it's 'hurt' but it's one gripe away from being 'pissed.'" He sinks back on the bed and says he's sorry. She says she really needs it, and the kids want them to be in love again, no matter how much they protest otherwise. Will: "'In love...again'?" Helen: "I mean in an obvious way." Will: "We couldn't be obviously in love at a golf resort?" Me: "Ew." Frink: "How horrid." Helen: "time." He asks her to promise he won't have to get wrapped up in anything. Man, I would pay cash money to see him getting a seaweed wrap. Maybe the kids can get him on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Helen embraces him and says, "Nothing you don't like." They make out.
In the kitchen, Luke takes some bacon out of the microwave and says, "I still say what you gain in the convenience factor is lost in the crispiness factor." Joan, evaluating oranges, says, "You realize no one's listening to you?" Luke: "No one ever listens to me...and yet, I talk." Snerk. Joan: "Whatever, Shakespeare. Listen, we need to make a plan." Luke: "I have a plan: tolerate high school. Get into MIT." Joan says they need a plan for the weekend, when their parents are away: "What do kids do when the parentals go away?" Luke: "Stay up late, play video games, leave dishes in the sink...don't worry, I'm all over this." Joan wants him to be more ambitious. I guess all his ambition has been sucked MIT-ward. She tells him she's thinking about a party. Luke: "A party? Like with kids our age?" Joan: "No, like with a bouncy castle. Yes, Dog Boy, a party, with actual people of the opposite sex, like..." She whispers: "Grace Polk." "Bouncy castle"? What? ["You know, like a Jupiter Jump or a Moon Bounce, like we used to go on at the fair when we were kids. I think they still have them at raves. Well, if 'they' still have raves in the first place. Okay, I'll shut up now." -- Sars] Luke replies, "I admit I'm intrigued, but...who'd come?" Joan: "I don't know. Don't these things just kind of happen? All I need you to do is take care of the music." Luke asks if their parents approved this. Joan says nothing. Luke: "Of course not; it's clandestine. Well, what about Kevin? Isn't he supposed to be in charge?" Joan says that on Saturday nights Kevin plays basketball and then goes out afterward with his teammates. That got established quickly. She says they'll kick everyone out before midnight, when Kevin gets home. Yeah, that'll happen. Luke asks about refreshments. Joan: "Huge bag of chips. Beverages, I need to think about." Kevin wheels in and says, "Hey! Do I detect bacon?" Luke says, "Uh, yeah, sure...it's yours." Kevin studies his siblings' faces and asks, "What's up?" Joan: "Nothing." Luke claims they were discussing chemistry. Kevin: "Forget it." Joan: "What?" Kevin says they're not having a party. Joan laughs a really fake laugh and says that's a good one. Kevin: "You think I haven't been your age?" Joan: "Kevin, look at us. Rocket Boy and the subdefective. Like we even have anyone to invite." Kevin nods and says, "That's true. I'm reassured." Kevin wheels off, and Luke says, "Well, hey, it's not that unthinkable." Joan puts her hand over his mouth.
Will and Helen are loading their bags into the car while the kids stand at the curb. Mom tells them to do their homework and get to school, adding, "And I think this goes without saying -- no parties." Kevin assures her, "I've already covered this -- they are very unpopular." Helen: "Oh, good. Uh, really?" Will urges her to get going so they can avoid traffic. She tells them Kevin's in charge. The kids wave, and Luke tells them to enjoy their body treatments as Helen gets in the car. Will closes her door and walks around to his side, saying, "No one's getting wrapped." Helen opens her door and says, "I might." They drive off as Kevin says, "They'll never make it the whole weekend." Luke and Joan exchange glances as Joan says, "Sure they will."
At work, Kevin's in the break room having some tea when Rebecca comes skulking up with an idea: "We take the research piece that you did, and turn it into an essay." I don't think a lot of newspapers really publish "essays" as much as they do "columns" and "pieces" and "articles." I see that word used for magazines much more than for newspapers. Whatever. Kevin wants to know why they would do that. Rebecca explains it's so she can lead with it in the Arts and Entertainment section Sunday: "I want you to lead with the idea that a teenage boy's sneakers are equivalent to his first car." Kevin: "Whoa...you're talking about me writing a piece, with a byline and everything?" She nods enthusiastically. Kevin protests that he's not a writer. She insists he is. Kevin: "But essay writing? That's, like, the best job. You have staffers elbowing for that." He says he's a fact checker. She says she's offering him an opportunity, and advises him to take it: "I'll handle the infighting." Which should be even more fun once word of their "sexual tension" makes the rounds, if it hasn't already. Good luck with that. She offers to help him with it, and suggests Saturday night. He says it's basketball night. She looks annoyed. Kevin, catching on: "I could...cancel basketball?" Rebecca: "Thank you. We'll start around six when the day shift clocks out."
At school, Joan suggests to Luke that they should pass out fliers. Luke says, "Right, and then Price finds out and shuts us down." Joan doesn't think they can rely on word of mouth: "In case you haven't noticed, we're not cool." Man, your parents are out of town. That's all anybody is going to care about. Luke: "I thought you were cool." Joan says she's not. Luke: "Oh, we're in big trouble then." They're at her locker now, and Grace is at hers, asking, "Are you guys having a party?" They both turn and ask in unison, "What?" Grace says it's all over school: "Big party at the Girardis' house tomorrow night." I like the strip of poster in her locker that says, "Does this look infected to you?" Heh. Joan turns to Luke, who says, "I told Friedman and nobody listens to him." Grace, who's taken off her leather jacket and is wearing a cuter-than-usual shirt with black sleeves and a white torso with red graphics all over it, asks, "So am I invited or what?" Luke: "Of course!" Grace: "I hate parties." Luke says it's a different kind of party. Friedman breezes up and announces, "Latest head count's seventy-five." Joan's horrified: "Seventy-five people?" Friedman: "Were you expecting zoo animals?" Well, in your case...explain the difference. Glynis comes up and exults, "Twenty seniors are confirmed!" Joan's freaking a little and wondering what they're going to serve. Friedman says he heard there was going to be a keg. Glynis: "Possibly...two?" Joan looks at Luke, who says, "Every party needs a keg." The bells rings, and everyone disperses except for Joan and Grace, who's been standing there chomping licorice and listening to this. She asks, "Girardi, you do know what you're getting into?" Joan claims she does. Grace closes her locker and takes off. Joan goes the other way and runs into Adam: "Yo, Jane...you're having a party?" She laughs that hollow little laugh she has, and says, "Yeah, I guess I am." Adam wonders if he's invited. Joan: "Sure. I want you to come." Adam: "Am I coming as a guy who...knows the girl who's throwing the party...or...?" Joan says maybe they should talk about this later. Price comes wandering up and sticks his face into their space, asking, "Talk about what?" Adam: "Uh, chemistry, yo." He takes off without looking at Joan. Joan leaves, too. Heh -- "chemistry." Nice answer.
Aerial shot of what looks like an old mill building on a river; then a shot of a little card on a table declaring, "QUIET PLACE / TALK QUIETLY." Will and Helen arrive; Helen has the same look on her face as I do whenever I go into a beautiful building -- somewhere between pleased and enchanted. There's another sign declaring that "THIS IS A QUIET PLACE." We get it. Shut up already, signs. Will says, "I wonder if the sound of ringing up our credit card will be too much for them." Snerk. Helen hushes him. Suddenly, a beardless Miles Drentell (David Clennon) comes out wearing a pink shirt that reminds me of my husband's kurta pyjama outfits. He greets them in the well-modulated tones of that distinctive voice. I can't help but think it's too bad he wasn't in last week's episode, which Timothy Busfield directed. They could have had a little reunion. He asks if they have luggage; Will says they have some bags in the car. Miles says, "No need to shout, sir." Of course, Will was speaking at a normal volume. Helen whispers their reservation information. Miles asks to make an imprint of their credit card, but when Will reaches for his wallet, Miles catches a glimpse of his gun in its holster. He asks if Will is carrying a firearm. Will explains he's a cop. Miles: "This is a peaceful atmosphere. We don't allow guns." Will: "It's an aspect of my profession." Miles: "Be that as it may, we don't allow weapons." Will reiterates his occupation. Miles: "Be that as it may, sir..." Will asks Helen, "Why does he keep saying that?" She whispers that he can keep the gun in the car. He whispers, "No, I can't." Miles: "This is a spaaaah, sir." Will ignores him, whispering to Helen, "The last time I surrendered my weapon, I nearly died." Uh, I agree that this guy's annoying, but I don't think he's planning to abduct you or anything. And I'm pretty sure that, despite your macho fears about the seaweed and Dead Sea goop, they won't kill you. Helen whispers, "Be that as it may..." Will tries again with Miles: "I'm a police officer, for God's sake!" Miles says they have to ask him to lock it in the safe: "And even in doing that, we will be violating certain agreements." Will tells Helen he's not giving up his gun again. She's looking increasingly pained by the whole confrontation. Miles: "Violence offends us, sir." Will: "It offends me, too, which is why I won't give up my weapon. Take us or leave us." Miles holds his ground, silently and with the smile of a maitre d' who's definitely planning to seat you to the kitchen. Will glances at Helen's unhappy face a couple of times and gives up his piece. Miles holds it with two fingers like it's a poopy diaper and walks off. There's some cheeseball quasi-Eastern music as Helen whispers, "I hear they have really good food here." Will just nods slightly. Miles is sort of the spa version of Vice-Principal Price.
After the commercial, they're in robes, reading on chaise longues by a big pool/hot tub. I can't quite see what they're reading, but it looks like Will's reading something by Dominick Dunne. Oh, Helen's reading the menu of services. Some loudmouth jackhole, played by expert loudmouth jackhole Jay Thomas, is in the pool, bloviating to his wife/girlfriend/mistress on deck about how his sinuses are as open as a church on Christmas. Didn't Jay Thomas used to be pretty skinny? Wasn't he on some tiresome show with Susan Dey? Will gripes to Helen that he thought this was supposed to be a quiet place. Jackhole takes a big sniff and asks his W/G/M: "You hear how the air moves in and out?" Will grouses, "I'd like to move his air in and out." Helen says she think she'll sign them up for the Native American Treatment. Normally I'd be overwhelmed by the number of comments I'd feel compelled to make here, but Barbara Hall, bless her soul, has taken care of it for me. Will replies, "What's that? They gently drag us through the sand by our hair until our skin is flayed? And then later, we're gently reassigned to gambling casinos in Arizona?" Frink and I just roared at this. Helen whispers, "Will!" He replies, "Helen, I don't spa well. This, you know." He tosses his book aside. It might go better if you stop thinking of it as something you do and start thinking of it as someplace relaxing to be. Helen says she'll sign him up for a basic aromatherapy massage. Will: "Aromatherapy?" The jackhole breaks in again: "And you know all that red meat you were feeding me? That's what causes my colon crisis. I'm lucky I'm not dead because of the red meat." Oy. Will: "Colon crisis?" I'm with you. I'm not sure that a weekend at a spa, much as I love the idea, could induce me to listen to Jay Thomas talk about his colon crisis. Helen tells him to keep it together, and hands him some "chai tea." Little gripe: "Chai" means tea in at least two different languages. Can we stop soon with the Department of Redundancy Department? Will complains, "He's talking about his ass in public -- and you're my wife!" Jackhole's cell phone rings. I can't believe those pocket-sized packages of evil aren't confiscated at the door. I went to a spiritual retreat a few years ago (by which I mean, an actual non-denominational self-directed religious retreat -- it's not a euphemism for a spa weekend) where we were not allowed to speak to anyone except during meals, and we sure as heck weren't allowed to use cell phones. (I confess to having one with me anyway, but it wasn't on, and I took a long walk far away from the retreat centre to call Frink on it once or twice.)
Jackhole answers the phone, telling "Roscoe" to "
talk loud; [he's] in the healing waters, here." He starts giving Roscoe stock orders, and Will can't contain himself any longer and says, "Excuse me, sir -- this is a quiet place." Helen tries to hush Will; Jackhole asks, "What was that?" Will gets up and walks toward him, saying, "It's just that, when they asked me to check my gun, they explained it was because this is a quiet, peace-loving place. So why do I have to hear about your stock portfolios, let alone your colon crisis?" Jackhole: "You had to check your gun? Who are you?" Helen: "Here, honey -- chai tea. Never mind him." Will gets up and walks back to Helen, saying, "That's right, never mind me." I see a stained glass window now that makes me think this is a converted church and not a mill, although it's not a very churchy window. Jackhole insists he has a right to talk, and says that maybe Will's free to lie around, but some people have to work for a living. Will: "Oh, I don't work for a living?" Jackhole tells Roscoe there's some "girly man" who's giving him grief. Will turns to his wife, saying, "Helen," in that tone of voice that asks, "You couldn't blame me if I clocked this guy." She holds out his tea with a pleading expression. Jackhole encourages Will to have a seat.
Joan and Luke enter a liquor store. Luke: "This is a bad idea." Joan: "We're having a party, dude. You can't have a party without beverages." Luke reminds her that they're underage. Joan makes a sound of exasperation, saying, "Like this whole thing was my idea?" Luke wonders whose idea it was, if not hers, but she just tells him to go to the snack section: "Leave this to me." She approaches the counter, where the cigarette-smoking clerk has been eyeing them since they came in: "Hi. I need a keg. Or two." The clerk looks bored. Joan: "You sell those, right?" He nods. She elaborates: "It's for an office party...at the place where I work...with people my age." Yes, very convincing. She reconsiders and adds, "Older people. Um, so how much for a keg, and do you deliver?" Actually, it looks to me like there's a sign right behind his head listing the prices for full and half kegs, in addition to the $80 deposit required. Not that she ever stood a chance anyway -- I could pass for sixteen about as much as Joan can for twenty-three -- but phoning ahead to do a little research and gather a little intelligence is always a good idea. The clerk asks for some ID. Joan laughs and says, "Come on. I'm twenty-three." The clerk just stares her down. She offers, "I'll pay you in cash." That goes nowhere, so she tries, "There's something in it for you?" He says, "Fraud and bribery. Not bad for a sixteen-year-old." Joan's comment, once the realization dawns on her: "God smokes?" Liquor Store God replies, "I don't inhale." Hee! He wants to know why she thinks she needs beer for a party. She glances around for Luke, but he's nowhere to be seen. She starts weakly, "The kids at school..." Liquor Store God insists, "Six-packs of soda and a big ice bucket, family-size bags of Doritos and Funyuns, a stereo that works. You're done." (Sars, when he mentioned Funyuns, I thought of you, because I'd never heard of them before you mentioned them somewhere. I don't think we have those in Canada. (Now everybody from Prince George to L'Anse aux Meadows is going to write and tell me otherwise. ["I can't say I've seen a Funyun north of the border, but I can't say I was really looking, either. Besides, y'all don't need Funyuns. You have all-clad chips." -- Sars])
Luke comes up with his arms full of chips, asking, "Now, what do you think about bean dip? It's a cliché, but it's a crowd-pleaser." Joan dumps all of Luke's stuff onto the counter and says, "Let's go. We're not buying anything from here." Luke: "We aren't?" Joan: "No. Master Of The Universe here carded me." Luke complains he told her the office party story wouldn't work. As they're leaving, Liquor Store God says, "Joan? You did invite Adam?" She says, "Sure." Liquor Store God adds, "And he realizes you're inviting him?" Joan: "As in a date?" He replies, "Figure it out." Luke: "I'm sorry -- he's approving the guest list?" Isn't the real question "How does this guy know your name, and know about Adam?" I wonder who Joan will tell about God first. Usually I think it will be Adam, but sometimes I think Luke might figure it out first. Joan tells Luke, "One foot in front of the other."
Saturday night. At work, Rebecca is hanging over Kevin's shoulder and bickering with him: "It is a split infinitive!" Kevin: "It is what I wanted to say!" Rebecca: "Well, I'm all for that, but can't you say what you want without violating the English language?" Ah, young love. Kevin says he doesn't have a "big honkin' education" like she does. She tells him he's going to have to come up with something better than that. He looks at his phone, and Rebecca tells him, "She'll call back -- stay focused." Apparently he's waiting to hear from Joan. He reminds Rebecca that he's in charge of his siblings while his parents are away. Rebecca: "Do ya really care if they have a party?" Kevin considers this and says, "I'm supposed to." Rebecca takes a rather lecturesome tone: "Here's what you're in charge of: your career. That is what I am trying to give you, but if you don't want it, I can't help you!" Kevin: "Who says I don't want it?" They both suddenly kind of smirk at each other, and she warns him, "Don't...make trouble." Kevin: "Are we even talking about the article anymore?" She says they are. Kevin laughs.
Will comes into a waiting area at the spa filled with men in robes, most of whom have some kind of pillow thing around their necks, probably scented or something. Jackhole's there, of course. As he sits down, someone puts a purple pillow around his neck, too. Jackhole notices Will, who asks if he's there for a treatment. Jackhole is. Will asks if they're supposed to ring a bell or something. Jackhole admonishes him that this is the quiet room. As opposed to the rest of the place? Will: "So if we just stay quiet, somebody will come and get us?" Jackhole says that's the idea. Will asks what services he's getting. I can tell Will is enjoying annoying this guy. Payback's a bitch, ain't it, buddy? Jackhole says, "Shut...up."
Party time. If these kids trash the beautiful Girardi house, I will not be responsible for my ensuing actions or comments. Music is blasting, and a houseful of people appear to be enjoying the pop and chips. It's probably still like this, but back in the day, when I was in high school, the absolute worst thing you could say about somebody's party was that it was a "pop and chips" party. Joan and Luke are leaning on the counter of the pass-through between the kitchen and dining room. Joan: "Oh, my God." Luke: "Yeah." Joan: "Who are these people?" Luke has no clue, but figures they must be popular. Joan: "Did you pay them?" Luke says he didn't -- but considered it. There's a shot of a couple making out lightly. Joan says, "Looks like they're actually dancing...and having fun." Luke: "Isn't this what you expected?" Joan: "Hey, I just do what I'm told, dude." Luke looks puzzled, but before he can question her, Joan notices that Adam and Grace have arrived. They're pretty dumsquizzled by the size of the party. There are a couple of shots of people flopping around, dancing. Joan greets them and says, "Luke will take your coats." He asks, "What am I?" Grace: "Fascinating. It's like a Druid solstice ritual without the viscera." Ha! She cracks my shit up. Luke: "Stick around -- the night is still young." Adam seems overwhelmed. There's Glynis, lurking in the background, waiting for her chance to talk to Luke. There's Friedman, too. Hey, Friedman, Greg Brady phoned from 1975, and he wants his shirt back. Grace: "I need salt." She takes off, and Luke follows. Adam, in a brown and beige toque, says hi to Joan and leans in like he's going to kiss her. She not-so-deftly makes an excuse and an escape.
Girardi FridgeCam. Some kid's raiding the fridge -- is that Alfred E. Neumann God? -- but Luke's hassling him, telling him there are plenty of chips in the living room: "This is, like, people food, okay?" The kid -- who's not Alfred E. Neumann God after all -- holds a sausage up at some other kid and says, "Dude, check out my bratwurst." Luke grabs it, saying, "Hey, that is my dad's Italian salami that he has flown in from, like, New Jersey." To Maryland? ["Maybe they shoot it out of a cannon." -- Sars] Well, he's flustered. We'll assume he's exaggerating. Luke stuffs the sausage back in the fridge. Glynis, who's wearing a sweet little tulip-embroidered sweater over a blouse with a Peter Pan collar, comes up and tells him, "Um, if you order a pizza, everyone will calm down." Luke: "Pizza? That works?" Glynis: "Somehow, it soothes the savage breast." Human beings who are very bird-like kind of give me the heebie-jeebies. Her face suddenly contorts with anxiety and nervousness, and then the phone rings. Luke tells her to hold that thought and turns to Grace, a few feet away, asking, "Can you help here?" Grace, indifferently: "Apparently not." Luke answers the phone; it's Kevin, who asks what's going on. Luke: "Oh, you know, man, just raiding the fridge." Kevin: "With who?" Luke says Grace is there. Glynis, meanwhile, dutifully blocks the fridge as some guy tries to get into it. Luke adds that Adam's there somewhere, too. Kevin: "Sounds loud! You guys aren't doing anything stupid, are you?" Luke assures him they're not. Kevin says he'd hate to have to check on them, and he'd hate to find a party going on: "And I'd hate to have to tell Mom and Dad." Luke insists everything's fine: "You know me -- I'm more responsible than Margaret Thatcher." Some kid skateboards past him. Hey! That's gonna wreck the floors, fuckwit. Kevin tells him to keep it that way, or he's coming home. Bratwurst kid hollers, "Dude, champagne!" He's opened a bottle, and it's foaming all over the place. Everyone cheers. Morons. That's not going to do the floor any favours, either. Luke just looks weary.
Back at the spa, Will's phone rings in the quiet room, and he runs off to one side of the room to answer, while Jackhole shakes his head sadly. It's Toni, asking if she's calling at a bad time. She's sitting in a car somewhere with some other cop we've never seen (who's eating some chips or something), and she's calling to tell him they're going to bust the meth lab. Will: "What?" Toni says Roebuck made the call; they got a tip that the meth lab guys are packing up and preparing to move. They have to go in. Will wants to talk to Roy. Toni says he's at the station, and she's there with Carlisle: "Will, he left it up to me. Are you telling me to back off?" Are they peers now, or what? Will says loudly, "Damn it, I'm --" He hushes himself a little, continuing, "I'm saying, wait. Wait at least an hour until I can get to a real phone or a real place --" Jackhole's had enough, and he zips over to where Will is and hisses, "Okay, buddy! Off, now!" Will says, "Please, I'm a cop." Jackhole says, "Yeah, and I'm an investment banker, and you shut me down, and this is the quiet room." Will says he knows that: "That's why I'm being quiet!" Jackhole says, "I'll take care of this." He claims to know the manager. Will tells him, "Fine -- just get out of my face." He tries to grab Will's phone, and they start struggling with each other. Will warns him to just walk away, but Jackhole, as we've seen, doesn't listen real good, and keeps it up. Will clocks him good, and pretty soon every other guy in the room is in the fray, all brawling in their Willow Hills robes, to the tune of the cheesy quasi-Eastern music. Dudes, dudes. Very un-Zen of you. It's silly but amusing.
After the commercial, Helen and Will are being chastised in their room by Miles. Man, I love the armoire opposite their bed. Miles is pacing in front of them and saying that normally that they'd be asked to leave, but given the late hour and the fact that they've paid in full already, "We will grant a dispensation." Will, who's holding an ice bag to his neck, says, "He started it." Miles snaps, "I don't care who started it, sir! You participated. And I've had my eye on you from the beginning. Oh yes, Mr. Gun In Your Armpit." Will says it was on his belt. Helen adds, "And he is a cop." Miles: "Yes. Everyone is painfully aware." He asks them "respectfully" to stay in their room for the rest of the night and leave first thing in the morning. Will: "He's grounding us?" Miles: "If that's how you choose to see it." Helen: "Why don't we just leave?" Will: "And give him the satisfaction?" Helen says she was thinking of her satisfaction: "But apparently I'm the only one." Will: "I'm sorry, honey, there was a situation." Miles: "Be that as it may..." Helen stands up and barks at him, "Oh, shut up!" She turns to Will and says, "Look, you hate being here, you didn't want to come...obviously spending some quiet time with me is not top of your list..." He stands up too, and tells her she's wrong. And he asks her not to use the word "quiet." She wants to get out of there. He says it's late, and they're tired, and suggests staying. He asks Miles if they can order room service. Miles says they don't offer it: "There's a delicious vegan restaurant on the premises, but -- oops! I forgot. You're forbidden to go there." He goes to the door and pompously delivers his parting shot: "If you're hungry...I suggest you just chew on the consequences of your actions." He leaves, and Will and Helen look at each other and burst out laughing. He hugs her, and she pushes him away, saying, "I'm still mad at you!"
Back at the party, some kids are playing cards at the kitchen table. Or some sort of card-related pastime where you stick cards to your face. I really don't know, sorry. Bookworm, remember? There's Makeout Couple again from a different angle. Get a room. Friedman's on the couch between Luke and Glynis, looking through a photo album. Grace is hanging over Luke's shoulder. Friedman points out a picture: "Oh, man, here's Luke in his little Dalmatian outfit!" Glynis squees: "Oh, look at his little ears!" We see a page of photos. At least a couple of them look like they could really be Michael Welch. I hope the Dalmatian costume one is really him. Luke says it was Hallowe'en and he was three years old. Luke tries to close the album, but Grace wants to see more, and Friedman fends him off. Glynis simpers, "The colour palette suits you." Friedman finds a picture of a baby in a bathtub and slobbers, "Dude, your sister's, like, naked!" Luke: "She's a baby!" Over in another area of the room, some kids are raiding their parents' liquor stash. Joan barks, "Hey!" She races over and grabs the bottles, shooing the guys away. She puts them right back where they were, as if someone won't be in there again the minute she turns her back. She complains to Luke that people are raiding the liquor cabinet. He knows. She demands to know why he didn't stop them. Luke: "Like I can." Friedman: "Look at the legs on her!" Oh, please! Those are her childhood pictures. Shut it, Friedman, before we have to lock you up along with Michael Jackson. Joan asks if those are her baby pictures. Grace points and comments to Joan: "Impressive use of fat." Ha! Grace really got almost all the best lines tonight. Joan frets, "This is a nightmare!" Suddenly Adam, with his usual impeccable timing, comes up and asks if she wants to dance. Joan blurts: "What?" Adam: "Uh, dance. With me?" Joan: "Adam, I can't. I'm at a party here!" She grabs the photo album and storms off. Adam says to himself, "Just thought I'd ask." She heads for kitchen, where she gets briefly entangled in some kind of conga line but manages to elbow her way past.
Kevin's watching Rebecca go over his article: "Sure are making a lot of marks!" She says, "It's just editorial." In the background, a janitor is winding up his vacuum cleaner cord and leaving. Rebecca tells Kevin it's really good. He seems skeptical: "Really?" She says it is, and hands him the article: "Make these changes and file it." Kevin: "You're not just cutting me a break?" She looks annoyed. Kevin: "No, of course not, because you're the, uh...person who doesn't cut me a break." She says, "Thank you for trusting me." She gets up and walks past his chair; he suddenly grabs her hand and says, "Uh...don't make me get up out of this chair." She looks at him, puzzled. He says, "I'm handicapped, not stupid. I know better than to let a beautiful woman walk away." She smiles and squishes up her face and objects, "We work together." Kevin: "So?" Rebecca: "So...it would be professionally unsound." Kevin: "I've done stupider things." He pulls her onto his lap. When she lands, she makes a little "oh!" sound. Kevin assures her, "Thing is, it doesn't matter how much you weigh, I can't feel it." She laughs and makes herself comfortable. Jason Ritter did an excellent job of not reacting to her weight when she landed, too. He says, "Thanks for...this. And for everything. I mean it." She says, "You're welcome. I mean it." They kiss very tentatively, and then...not so tentatively. ["Swooooon." -- Sars]
Toni and Carlisle are debating whether to go into the lab. Wouldn't there be a few more cops involved in busting a meth lab? It doesn't seem like they're coordinating with anyone else. Toni's still waiting to hear back from Will. Carlisle reminds her he's not the chief anymore. They suddenly get a call to check out a noise complaint -- which Toni can't quite believe. However, she recognizes the address as Will's, so she says she'll go. Carlisle can't believe they're leaving the stakeout for that. Toni says, "It's our boss's house. It could be noise...it could be something else." Off they go.
Will and Helen are playing strip Scrabble by the fire. Will's just made a word containing a Q and scored twenty-four points: "And if I understand the rules, you should be removing something...right now." Helen shrugs off her robe. She's wearing a lacy white nightgown underneath. She says, "I'm still mad at you," but the tone of voice and smile that accompany it are a little more "come here, big boy" than "I'm pissed." Will says, "No, you're not.' She makes a gesture of exasperation. He says, "You don't understand -- you weren't there." She reminds him, "You punched out a guy in a robe!" Will says he was in a robe, too. She says that's not like him: "Nothing since you were taken hostage has been like you." Will: "Oh, really?" Helen asks if it's post-traumatic stress. Will: "Like I care what they call it." Helen seems slightly taken aback by Will's tone. Will continues: "The man...held a gun to my head. He was about to pull the trigger...I knew I was gonna die, Helen...so I did the whole life review. I saw you and the kids; I said goodbye to you; I said, 'I'm sorry.' I pictured you all carrying on without me...because I knew you'd be okay. What kind of a man am I? I was willing to leave my family." I didn't really get much of that from his performance in "Drive, He Said"; I thought he was doing everything possible to stay alive and to save himself. I could see that he maybe tried to mentally accept his likely fate, but I never thought he really gave up or gave in at any point. Helen looks sad and says, "My God...Will..." He replies, "But what could I do?" Helen holds his hand. Will just looks depressed.
More people arrive at the party. Shot of Makeout Couple. Luke bops by in the foreground. Joan's on the staircase, shooing people back downstairs: "Let's go, let's go. No upstairs. It's not that kind of party." Maybe somebody should tell Makeout Couple. I'm kind of surprised people aren't riding Kevin's wheelchair lift up and down the stairs for laughs. Joan walks over to the couch where Adam's apathetically riffling through a deck of cards and plops herself down to him, asking, "Do these things ever end?" Adam: "Eventually...people pass out." He tries one more time: "Do you wanna dance?" She says, "No, I want all these people to go home!" She shouts the last few words in the general direction of the crowd. I feel so bad for Adam, but then, when don't I? He asks if she wants a drink. She says she'd love some water. He says, "Done," and goes off to get her some.
Meanwhile, Cute Guy God moves in on Joan and asks her to dance. Cute Guy God's hair has gotten longer, and is just a little too poofy for me to take seriously. Joan asks, "Can I say no?" He replies, "Of course you can." But he takes the plastic cups she was clearing away out of her hands, puts them on the table, and says, "Come on." That doesn't really feel like she can say no, does it? And you just know Adam will be back any second and see them dancing and assume the obvious. They start dancing to a slower song, holding each other at a respectable distance -- more like a father and daughter than boyfriend/girlfriend. He asks how she liked her party. Joan: "I don't. What's the big idea?" He explains, "The big idea is recreation. You know what that means?" Joan: "Whatever." Cute Guy God: "Well, let's break the word down, shall we? Re-create. To create...again, begin again, to start over. People need to do that. Work is fine, but...every now and then, you gotta take a break and...re-create." There you go. Dispensation from the highest authority for spending ninety-seven hours a week at TWoP. He continues, "Adam is confused." Joan complains, "Adam is always confused." Cute Guy God says, "Okay, well, you're introducing new levels of confusion." She says she's not ready to "couple." I know a lot of people in the forums felt that this didn't really jibe with her oft-stated desire to have a boyfriend, but I don't think, when she pictured having a boyfriend, she imagined a relationship this complicated and intense and demanding, and she's probably right to think she's not ready for a whole lot more than a fairly fun and straightforward kind of boyfriend. Clay would have been good if he weren't such a wanker. Cute Guy God tells her to tell Adam she's not ready. She sighs, obviously dreading that prospect. Of course, at this point Adam returns to the room with her water, and sees her dancing with some other guy -- although it's not like she looks like she's having a particularly good time. Still, his face falls and his heart sinks and he walks away before she sees him. Back to God, who's telling her, "Remember, recreation isn't about relaxing -- it's about redefining." Joan: "Redefining what?" Cute Guy God: "Whatever's become undefined." Joan asks, "Shouldn't you be a better dancer?" Hee. I'd like to see the Divine One bust some serious moves. He just smiles enigmatically as the doorbell rings. Joan: "Excuse me, your...Almightiness."
Joan answers the door; Toni introduces herself, which surprises me at first because I thought they'd met, but I guess Toni's only met Kevin and Helen. She says they received a noise complaint: "Think it's about time to break things up." Joan: " Thank God!" She turns around and hollers, "Everybody...the police are here. Time to get out!" People start grabbing their coats and leaving. Carlisle grabs a chip from someone who's brushing past him. Joan thanks Toni again, who tells her, "I work with your father." Joan: "Uh...you're not gonna...you're not gonna tell him, are you?" Toni and Carlisle kind of shrug at each other, and Toni says that her dad has enough on his mind. Joan says quietly, "Thank you."
At the spa, Helen's asleep, but Will's watching the news. Wait just an organic, unbleached cotton-picking minute: this joint has TVs in the rooms? I find that highly unlikely. Anyway, he's watching a report about how the meth lab they were staking out has exploded and gone up in flames. The news team seems not only to have gotten on the scene more or less instantly, but also somehow learned that the police had been staking it out. What's weird is that the copy the anchor is reading doesn't match the closed captioning. She says, "The police raid was delayed, and the fire spread to three adjacent properties, but was quickly contained. A total of seventeen local residents were displaced and are currently being assisted by the Red Cross." The closed captioning says, "The police raid was delayed, which turns out to be blessing, because the cops involved in the raid certainly would have been injured or worse." Will quickly gets his cell phone out to call Toni.
She and Carlisle are still at the Girardis', making sure that the party actually breaks up. They're watching the news report, too, and looking at each other, knowing they dodged a bullet. Apparently there's a meth lab to God's madness. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) Toni takes the call from Will and assures him everyone's fine, but says nothing about where she is. The camera drifts along to show us Luke, lying on the couch with a cool cloth on his forehead, and Grace kind of hanging around observing him. I guess he has a delicate system. Joan looks out the front window and sees Adam on the street, just kind of hanging around, moping. She throws on her coat and goes outside, as Jewel's "2 Become 1" concludes. What a relief that this wasn't a typical high school party TV storyline, where the party gets out of control and people end up dying when they drink and drive, or kill themselves, or get alcohol poisoning or a drug overdose or whatever, and there's an important little moral lesson to be learned.
Joan walks up to Adam. She smiles and says, "Hey." He's got his hood pulled up over his toque. Joan: "What are you doing out here?" Adam: "Waiting for my father to pick me up." She asks if he's okay. Adam tries not to look hurt, but that's one thing he's not very good at: "Yeah, Joan, I'm fine." She smiles -- looking not unlike Mary Steenburgen when she does -- and says, semi-flirtatiously, "I liked it better when you called me Jane." Without looking at her, he says, "Those days are over." She sighs, and asks, "Why are you mad at me?" Adam pulls his hood back and kind of adjusts his toque slightly. He shrugs, replying, "I don't know." He hesitates, and continues: "Maybe...maybe I'm bad at stuff like this." Joan shakes her head. Adam: "But we kissed...it's not exactly like I've kissed a lot of girls." Joan kind of looks down and shifts her shoulders uncomfortably. Adam: "Maybe I've only kissed one." Joan acknowledges this softly: "Right." He adds, "Well, maybe it meant something to me." Joan: "Well, maybe it meant something to me, too." Her voice is soft and her eyes look a little teary -- which makes me think this must be the first episode in the series in which she doesn't cry. I'm too lazy to check, though. Adam: "I don't...I don't know what to do with it now." Joan emits a wheezy laugh and says she doesn't, either. Adam shuffles uncomfortably, moving away from Joan slightly, and suggests, "You know...maybe it was like that, uh...anti-drug guy says. Romantic love...it's like a...mental illness." Welcome to the club, pal. We have occupational therapy on Tuesdays. Joan smiles a bit. Adam: "It just happens, you know. And then what are you going to do?" Joan, sadly: "Maybe we just aren't ready." Adam looks at her like he was hoping she wouldn't say that: "Yeah...okay, I accept that." He pauses, and then asks, "But were you ready for that other guy?" Joan gives him a knowing look he couldn't possibly interpret, and assures him, "That's different."
They both stand there, looking off in different directions. Adam's vulnerability just tears at me. On the soundtrack, a song I've not yet been able to identify starts playing. "Tell me where you are and I will come and get you / Don't you know my love for you is true?" Joan finally says, "Hey..." Adam looks up. She asks, "You want to dance?" He looks unsure at first, but quickly allows himself to give into the moment, and he turns to face her and holds out his hands. "Just give me a sign and I will be behind you / Don't you know I have to find you?" She walks slowly toward him, and they hold each other closely; Adam closes his eyes as his cheek nestles against her hair. Joan smiles to herself and exhales a little bit; you know Adam will remember the smell of her hair, the feel of her breath on his neck in the cold night air for a long time. "Don't tell me that it's over / That's not how it should be." He suddenly lets go of her a little to twirl her; she twirls and comes rushing back into his arms, giggling and smiling. "Babe, I recognize, I see it in your eyes / There's way too much hurt, too many lies / If we come together, make our love forever / That would be the greatest treasure." And they dance, and they hug, and they hold each other tightly and dance, taking very small, very slow steps as the camera does a couple of dissolves above them, and then floats back toward them at eye level, dancing together in silence -- not unlike another couple we know. Joan smiles, almost as if she's reacting to something Adam's whispered to her, and they continue dancing in a tiny circle. "Don't tell me that it's over, you've just got to believe / Baby, don't you care about the love we have? / Being happy, not sad / I guess sometimes things don't work out like we planned..."