In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description! Finished? Click here to close. Don and Pete take L.A. by storm, but while Pete gets stuck yucking it up with boring scientists, Don gets swept away by a gaggle of bohemian aristocrats, including a sexy young thing named Joy, and absconds to Palm Springs without giving poor Campbell a heads up.
Duck finagles a potential deal between his former British employers and Sterling Cooper, and falls back off the wagon while he's at it. Meanwhile, Roger proposes to his young secretary and begins his divorce proceedings.
Peggy guilts Euro Young Creative Kurt into taking her to see Bob Dylan, and when the SC associates tease them about their romantic involvement, Kurt informs them without shame that he's a big old Mary. And like all good Mary's he takes it upon himself to give Peggy the makeover she so desperately needs.
And after his whirlwind weekend, Don calls up a mystery person, introducing himself as Dick Whitman and promising he'll see them soon. Intrigue! -- Lauren Gitlin
Want more? The full recap starts right below! Many thanks to Lauren Gitlin for filling in for me on the recaplet on, oddly enough, my two hundredth recap for TWoP. I don't even know what to say about that, other than I am certainly getting older with age, but I'm glad it's falling on such a good episode. So:
We pan up a nubile pair of legs in a hotel-room bed as we hear Jane's voice reciting a love poem she's apparently writing as we watch, and then Roger emerges from having taken a shower and catches a few lines. Seemingly moved, he asks who wrote it, and Jane smiles. "I write a lot of poetry when I'm inspired." Considering she referred to herself as feeling "delicious and destroyed," I'm guessing inspiration enhances other pursuits of hers as well. As if to validate my thought, Roger tells her he thinks he should stop being surprised by anything she does, and she agrees. "You shouldn't. It's insulting." Heh. After some more discussion of the poetry, she tells him their souls are the same age, and I'd think that line was barfy if I didn't put Roger's emotional age at somewhere around twenty anyway. After some making out that really tests the limits of stage-kissing, Roger breathes that Jane is getting to him, and after Jane asks what assurances she has in the relationship by way of an uncharacteristically tortured Alice In Wonderland reference, he tells her he loves her. She points out that Mona and Margaret have been his life for a long time, but he counters by saying he's been thinking about something for a while: "I want you to be my wife." This seems like a horrible idea, given how anti-commitment Roger's arc has seemed all season, but no one ever thought of him as particularly logical or consistent, least of all me. At least if he dumps Jane after twenty-five years, she'll still be prime cougar age. Anyway, she can't believe he's serious, but the intensity of his gaze is better persuasion than any words could be, and she accepts. As if Margaret didn't have enough problems without wondering if her husband is checking out Jane's rack at family dinners when she's not looking.
In the conference room, Ken is running down some Right Guard market research numbers as Harry sits back with his feet on the desk and Sal scans the latest Playboy for typos. Having feigned heterosexuality for all of three seconds, he asks if anyone (Smith, Smeeth, and Peggy are also in attendance) watched Loretta Young the night before. Harry says he missed it but asks what happened and Sal responds, "I can't even describe it. It was so awful." Sal, if I could find the words to recap The Mountain, you can try a little harder. Smith playfully asks Peggy if they can take advantage of Don's absence to order some food on the company dime, and Peggy the Mouse decides to play: "If you'll all swear Gillette dropped in." Heh. No one has a problem with this except, uncharacteristically, Ken, who wants some ideas for Right Guard. Peggy argues that they already have a great campaign, and she and Ken go back and forth for a bit until Harry somewhat wistfully bemoans how much Loretta Young has lost it by musing that she was his father's favorite. Sal: "The aprons. The nauseating upholstery on the couch. Strangers who drop by." You're sounding a little $25,000 Pyramid about it, Sal, but I'm starting to get the picture.
Smith asks if anyone's heard from Paul, the implication being that the situation in Mississippi is getting out of hand, and Harry sighs that stirring up trouble like that is bad for business, as it gives people a reason not to watch television. Doesn't sound like Loretta Young is helping, either. Smith rats Smeeth out for not even having a TV, so Smeeth has to explain what he likes to do in his spare time -- concerts and going to the park, for example. He doesn't mention if he sucks dick at these events or prefers to keep that activity separate, but there will be plenty of time to parse that later, I'm sure. Ken gets testy about the fact that they're not working at all, but Peggy tells him that short of Right Guard coming out with a product exclusively for women, they need more time and research. "And lunch." Everyone heads out except Peggy and Smeeth, who linger to talk about Bob Dylan, whom Smeeth has seen live. Peggy expresses interest in going, and Smeeth invites her to accompany him. Peggy doesn't want to impose, but Smeeth does a reasonable impression of someone charming, and she accepts. Her mother, being such a strict Catholic, probably wouldn't approve, but she'd at least be secretly happy there's no chance of her getting pregnant again.
Los Angeles. As people swim in the hotel pool, Don stands by in full suit and hat, watching and smoking like a detective in a murder mystery. This isn't L.A. Confidential, Don. Take off your tie and stay awhile. "Misirlou" kicks up, evoking an Arabian Nights-esque feeling, and then Pete appears, smiling that this is why he booked them to come a day early. They discuss the fact that TWA lost Don's luggage, and while that excuses his attire at the moment, I'm a bit disbelieving that the best TWA is willing to do is buy him a new suitcase, given that he flew first class. I'd think they'd at least steal some cabana-wear from unsuspecting coach passengers and toss them Don's way. Pete declares his intention to hit the pool, but Don sets him straight, saying that rather than be the hundredth person to shake someone's hand at the convention, he should spend the day making preliminary contact with some well-chosen targets. Pete tries to get Don to ease up, prompting this reply: "You want to be on vacation, Pete? 'Cause I can make that happen." Pete and his lower lip think, "If I'd known it was going to be like this, I would have scored some points by bringing the wife."
Hey, it's Maury Parkman! Okay, fine, it's character actor Alan Blumenfeld, but I felt I had to mention the personal overlap for me, especially given what happened on this week's Heroes. After he babbles a bit about a recent trip to Europe, we learn he's a divorce lawyer from this question to Roger: "You don't have to marry her, do you?" Roger tells him no, but forcefully opines that Mona has no right to his family or company money, and besides, he and Mona have been miserable for years, and he doesn't want to die with her. I think at this point she'd settle for you simply dying, and might even be willing to take a hand in that happening. Roger concludes that this is the life he was meant to have, and if he thinks that, I bet he'll be even more psyched when Jane's officially old enough to drink. Maury (the character's name is "George Rothman," just for reference) tells him that's lovely, but Mona has the marriage license and wants to hurt him, so if he wants to wed Jane he's going to have to make it worth Mona's while. "I have a list of conditions, and an alimony that could support Rita Hayworth." Heh. Roger tells him to push back as hard as he can, but to get it done, and then his secretary buzzes that Duck is there. Roger shows Maury out, and when he and Duck catch sight of each other, the chill in the air is enough to make Pete's interaction with Willy seem effusive, so I'm guessing Maury represented the other side in Duck's divorce. Roger does not fail to notice this...
...and inside, he asks Duck how badly he got taken. Duck prefaces by saying his circumstances weren't the same (read: he was a drunk, not a cheat), so with an effort, Roger drops it, asking what it is Duck wants. Duck at least acknowledges that his timing sucks, but forges on, saying they're coming up on two years together. Roger: "Did you get me something?" Heh. Duck, however, says he'd like to know where he stands for the future, and thinks he deserves to be made partner. Roger offers to bring it up at the meeting, but tells Duck he might have to advocate for himself. Duck starts to get up while saying he'd be proud to present his accomplishments, which garners this response: "Good. Because I'm at a loss." Duck looks like he just got slapped, which is appropriate given that Roger gave him the conversational equivalent there. He asks what Roger means, so Roger points out that he hasn't exactly delivered on the promises of increased business he made when they hired him. He goes on to run down the board members he'd have to have on his side -- Bertram, who hates everyone; his sister, who does what he says, and Don, who's "only twelve and a half percent, but I can't say he's your biggest cheerleader." Interesting that he's saying this after Don and Duck mended their fences at Roger's insistence, but I think Roger is trying to deflect attention from the fact that he doesn't think Duck is partnership material -- his rather disdainful comment at Don's dinner party (implying that Duck doesn't take any initiative) said it all. Roger counsels Duck to "go out there and make rain," which doesn't seem like bad advice, and Duck tries to save face by thanking Roger for being so candid. Given their military backgrounds, it would have been appropriate for him to add, "May I have another?"
At the conference, some geek is droning on and giving a slide presentation about a new missile that will be able to target fourteen individual cities with one launch. Don looks like this is not his cup of tea...
...and we cut to afterward, where Pete is crowing that one of these companies spends as much on media buys as three Lucky Strikes. Don sends Pete off on an errand, and his timing is perfect, because at that moment, Joy comes into view. Of course, she's walking in slow motion, so he would have had a couple minutes to get rid of Pete before she got there. But seriously, is the slow motion necessary? This show strives for realism so often that using that device to emphasize the idea that Don finds her sexy seems cheap. Especially since he'll be boning her in a few scenes anyway. She gives him the double-cheek-kiss, but at his rather muted response, tells him she's got to leave, as she's headed for Palm Springs. She invites him along, and when he hesitates, she asks, "Why would you deny yourself something you want?" There are a number of possible answers, but this girl and you and I know that underneath Don's buttoned-up exterior is a hedonist, so it's no surprise when, after she buys a little time by tying a scarf over her hair like Grace Kelly, he gets in the car. She asks if he'd like to get his things, and not wanting to talk about TWA, he responds, "No." They drive off...
...and we cut to Pete, sitting with two potential clients at an outdoor table and telling them he thinks Don needed to make a phone call. I think Pete's about to find out exactly how well Right Guard works. I just hope he lets Ken know the results.
As the music plays again (I thought at first it was simply to emphasize the exotic nature of Joy and her family, but given that it came to be known as "The Snake Dance," I wonder if it's supposed to be evocative of temptation as well) Don and Joy arrive at their destination in Palm Springs, and Joy tells them the rather large house belongs to friends of hers who are currently in Sardinia. They head out to the pool, and Joy points out a topless girl lying face down on a raft, saying her name is "Stephanie." Even if Don's job didn't force him to be good with names, I have a feeling he'd remember that one. Willy and Rocci are sunbathing, and two others are also hanging out, "Greta" and "Carlos," about whom Joy comments, "I'm surprised to see them in the same place." I'm surprised to see him at all, as he's hot enough to cause blindness. Joy leads Don over to Greta and Carlos and pours him a drink, and after a brief exchange of small talk, Carlos asks Joy in Spanish if Don is someone important. Joy declines to answer in favor of stripping off her dress to reveal a bikini and asking Don to go swimming with her, saying he can ask inside for a bathing suit or simply go nude. I'm thinking if she polled the people in attendance, the opinion would be pretty one-sided. However, we won't get an answer right now, as Don suddenly seems dizzy (between the cough, the incident with Bobbie, and now this, his health is not looking so great) and after she notes he's gone very pale, he falls to the ground. At least he didn't hit his head on the side of the pool. That's how Brooke died on Melrose Place!
Some time later, the jet-setters have managed to convey Don inside (I wonder if they got the servants involved) and a doctor has been summoned to treat Don, who comes to and asks where he is. After he gets his bearings, the doctor, "Klaus," tells him he has heat exhaustion and moves to give him an injection of something. Don, however, probably put off by the doctor's jacket-and-no-pants outfit, refuses, saying he just needs some water and aspirin. I'm not sure that will fix the problem, although I'll grant that it usually will help what's ailing him. Willy and Rocci make light of the situation with some gallows humor, and everyone but Joy leaves, although not before Klaus rather familiarly tells the "little girl" not to get any ideas, as Don needs his rest. Starting that admonition with "young lady" would have borderline skeeved me out there, but "little girl" removed any doubt. Ew. Don, not looking so great, asks who all these people are, and Joy coyly tells him they're friends. "We're nomads together." I think you're a lot of things together, few of which I want to know about. Joy tells him they're having Mexican food for dinner, which Don says he's never tried (you've never been to El Parador, Don? Their margaritas are awesome!). Joy tells him he'll love it, and to rest up and come outside when he's ready. I hope he does, because I'd love to see him made to wear a big floppy sun hat. But for now, Don takes a sip of water, transparently decides he's not moving for a while, and lies back down. Probably not too late to get Klaus back with that shot of whatever it is.
In the evening, the jet-setters dine outside as Rocci complains that she doesn't like Mexican food. Sacrilege! Don then emerges, dressed in a short-sleeved Lacoste-style shirt, and everyone applauds. It's actually not meant to make him self-conscious, and he endures the attention with better humor than I would expect, given the recent heat stroke and all. Actually, maybe that's the explanation. Joy has Klaus move so Don can sit to her, and Willy pours him some wine and proposes a toast to their guest, and "to not being carried out in a box." Everyone giggles like they don't keep Klaus around for a reason, and then Don predictably gets questioned on who he is, with Greta saying that Willy and Joy think he's a spy, and Rocci chiming in that his wallet fell out when he was carried inside, so she knows he's in advertising. Don: "Or I'm a really good spy." Everyone's charmed that Don's brain is back in such droll working order. Willy then makes a grand pronouncement about how they're all very interested in professions, but none of them work, to which Don bluntly replies that he assumes they're all well off. Now, given what happens later, I think this comment is meant to illustrate that no matter how well he's done for himself, he hasn't succeeded in completely extracting the Dick Whitman from Don Draper. However, I find Willy's comment to be just as gauche in its own mannered way, so I don't think acting like Don just spat on the enchiladas is warranted. Willy changes the subject to how he was twice an Olympic fencer, and the following things happen in rapid succession: Joy fondling Don's leg, Don holding his own at the easiest geographical game ever invented, and Joy licking the molé sauce right off his teeth as everyone blithely continues naming cities from around the world...
...and then Joy is leading Don into their room. I'm no fan of hers, but if a trip to bed is what it's going to take to get us the hell out of Palm Springs, so be it. After she takes off her dress, he steps forward and asks how old she is, and the answer is twenty-one. He tells her he's thirty-six, and then asks with some wonder who she is, but she simply tells him she's Joy. She takes off her bra, lies on top of him, and then we rather chastely cut to a commercial. Considering they teased us with the prospect of nudity, it seems like a gyp that he didn't even take his shirt off.
Finally, back to New York! In the break room, massive quantities of doughnuts have appeared. Harry wonders if Ken brought the account in, and Joan says she hasn't seen contracts yet, but the doughnuts are a good sign. Well, maybe for the bottom line, but not for the waist line. (Sorry, being around these particular Euros makes me head for the Catskills.) Ken and Sal enter (Smith and Smeeth are already there) and Ken announces that they'll be getting a delivery like this every week. Peggy pops in, and Smeeth reminds her about their Bob Dylan date that's apparently happening that evening. Peggy hunches over the coffee as everyone gives them some good-natured ribbing, but Smeeth drops this bomb: "I am homosexual." Referring to Smeeth's ESL status, Ken replies, "I don't think that means what you think it means," which, aside from a coffee-and-doughnut spit-take, is about the best thing that could have happened. Smith tries to caution Smeeth from going further, but Smeeth, with a hilariously stern "no" Smith's way, declares he's uninterested in American closets as he explains that he makes love with men, not women. The reactions around the room are so good that they have to be itemized: Joan, probably having memories of Carol, simply side-eyes deliciously; Peggy, learning she's a fag hag before the term even exists, turns back to the coffee pot in horror; Ken's face manages to collapse and freeze at the same time; Harry, after an eternal pause, raises his eyebrows and asks, "What?"; Sal hopes no one sees him clearly as he hangs on to his doughnut for dear life. So well-acted and directed and just all-around awesome, and Smeeth just jumped so far in my estimation that I think I have to start calling him "Kurt" purely out of respect. So Kurt, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone's catching flies, confirms that he and Peggy are on for eight ("Of course! Absolutely!"), and leaves, right behind his date. Harry asks Smith if he knew about this, and Smith, by way of admitting it, answers, "He's from Europe. It's different there," and then adds, "More for me," with a leer at Joan. Harry, while referring to Kurt as a "pervert," still seems pretty chill about the whole thing, as, of course, does Joan, but Ken opines that he doesn't want to work with "queers." Smith asks if Kurt is really the first "homo" he's ever met in advertising before walking out, and Ken and Harry make further comments while Sal wonders if he's going to have to keep up appearances further by actually having intercourse with his wife.
Don wakes up to Joy, who's already awake and reading The Sound and the Fury. She tells him she took a survey of American literature, and I'm taking the fact she feels the need to mention this as a reference to her being European, but Don hasn't figured this out, merely asking if she's in school. She tells him she was at Pembroke, as Willy has a house in Rhode Island, so "it seemed convenient." This explains her lack of a European accent, I suppose. Don admits that he's never read the book, but while she deems it merely "okay," she says the sex is good. "I like sex." I never would have guessed. She says she can tell he does too, like sex is some weird delicacy instead of a biological need, and then, after they hear Greta and Carlos arguing through the wall, Willy enters, sits on the bed, and tells Joy that "Christian" and the kids will soon be joining them. Joy gets a pouty attitude about the news, which suggests that Christian can only be her brother, and then Willy stares at a shirtless Don like he's going to kick Joy right out of the bed, declaring, "You are so beautiful!" Joy tells him in French not to touch him, and seriously, I get the theme of European sexual fluidity here, but asking for your daughter's literal sloppy seconds is a bit much for me. I mean, I've heard things about people from the Continent not liking to shower, but this is ridiculous. Oh, that's right, in case you hadn't guessed, Willy is Joy's father. (I think Rocci is her mother, but who the hell knows with this crowd?) Don, having a thousand and one questions after that exchange, settles on, "That's your father?" Which is really a neat way of asking about three hundred of them. Joy "explains" that he doesn't want people to think he's old. Here's an idea: Just For Men. The name alone should intrigue you.
Pete apparently got out of his business dinner alive, and is taking a half-full view of Don's absence as he sets up another meeting by the pool. (For the trivia-minded, Pete tells the guy he can't drive, in case that's ever relevant.) A couple of his papers blow into the path of two oncoming women, who pick them up and hand them to him. However, when he tries to strike up a conversation, they simply keep walking. Non-speaking extras can be so standoffish.
Duck enters a restaurant, heads over to table, and greets "Saint John Powell," played by Charles Shaughnessey, whom viewers of The Nanny will remember as "Missstaaaaaah Sheffffffffffffffffffffffield!" I think I spelled that right. Powell and Duck apparently worked together in England, and Powell introduces his companion, "Alec Martin." Duck hasn't been seated for five seconds before Martin pushes some booze on him, but he begs off, saying he's got a cold. After Powell basically calls him the biggest lush that ever lived, they tell him they won't be in New York long, so Duck gets down to business by asking for a position at his old firm. Powell, however, tells him it isn't a good time, although he says if they were hiring, he'd be at the top of the list. The waiter has conveniently just brought Powell's offer of another round of martinis, so when Martin proposes a toast to their "noble profession," Duck finally succumbs to the pressure that's been building on him all season and takes a sip before quickly downing the rest in one gulp. Seems like a good time to buy stock in Martini & Rossi. Duck bluntly asks if Powell thinks he has nothing to offer, and then, at Powell's unconvincing denial, points out that Powell's firm represents over twenty American companies but still doesn't have a U.S. presence, and suggests they buy Sterling Cooper to remedy that. I doubt this is what Roger meant by "making rain," but Duck's certainly showing more creativity here than anyone might have guessed. Intrigued, Powell says he didn't know SC was for sale, but when Duck tells him about Roger's imminent divorce-fueled financial woes, Powell asks Martin to give them a moment alone. When it's just the two of them, Powell asks if Roger sent him there with a price, but Duck makes it clear that he's doing this on his own initiative, and lays out his terms -- a two percent finder's fee, purview over all international business, and the presidency of the U.S. concern. Powell looks impressed with Duck's newfound balls, and Duck takes the opportunity to down another drink. I hope the offer doesn't come through the morning, because he is going to be in no shape to handle it.
Speaking of chugging alcohol, Kurt shows up at Peggy's, having added a really snazzy blazer over his normal turtleneck, and they awkwardly sit on the couch and drink some wine until Peggy says that she hopes he wasn't embarrassed in the office. Kurt easily says it was fine, but Peggy presses on, saying that if he has a man he'd rather go with, she'll step aside. Aw. For someone who wouldn't even hold her own baby, Peggy's kind of a humanist. Kurt's confused, asking if Peggy doesn't want to go, but Peggy shows a visceral grasp of the fag/hag relationship by confessing that she doesn't know why she always picks the wrong boys, and asking what's wrong with her. He reaches out and plays with her hair as he tells her she's "old-style," and offers to "fix" her. She's equal parts curious and scared, and points out they should leave...
...but soon after, she's changed into a smock as Kurt sets up a high chair for her and tells her that Dylan always goes on late anyway. He has her sit, and when she balks, assures her he's very good. She gives in and asks for just a trim, but he immediately chops off her entire ponytail, much to her horror when she sees it. He assures her it's great, but the look on her face is like, "Is this going to make me a lesbian?"
At night, Don and Joy sit in the pool as she tells him they're heading to the Bahamas soon. Don, still not getting what these people are all about, asks why, but she replies, "It's what we do," before adding something about taxes and inviting him to go with her. He's resistant, still trying to find some common ground between their realities, but she tells him her father will take care of him. "He likes having you around. You're beautiful and you don't talk too much." Before Don can really consider whether he wants to be a trophy to an entire family, however, Christian (Buffy fans might recognize him as Dracula) shows up with two kids in tow. Joy introduces everyone, and then Christian asks if "Isabel" called, as he's sick of her attorneys. "These are my children. They should be with me." Well, if your only purpose on the show is to stir the thoughts of a main character, you might as well get to the point. Don offers the three of them the room he and Joy were staying in, and they withdraw. Joy smiles and speculates that Don doesn't want to sleep, but sex, despite his unusual affinity for it, seems to be the farthest thing from his mind. He takes a long look at his wine, like he's realizing he's drinking a glass of temptation...
...and in a nice segue, Joan enters Duck's office with a case of Tanqueray, an apparent gift from Powell, although his name isn't on the card. Duck gives Joan a bottle of the stuff as a finder's fee (nice touch), and she happily takes off, leaving him to read the note again.
Sal, Harry, Ken, and Peggy and her new sassy bob (it's kind of Jackie, going back to that theme) are watching TV coverage of the riots in Mississippi when Pete enters with greetings for all. After Pete offers a typically mealy-mouthed assessment of the crisis as "strange," Peggy asks how California was. He produces a bag of oranges as he says that it was spectacular on the business front, but he's not sure he'd want to live there. As someone who only learned to drive in his thirties, I can tell you that that might change your perspective on the whole thing. No one seems to wonder where Don is, even when Pete asks if he's checked in, and after Pete notices Peggy's new hair, Ken winds up the scene: "Kurt's a homo." Pete and his confused expression are now officially up to speed.
Duck pops a breath mint, presumably to cover the fact that that bottle he gave Joan is no longer the only one missing...
...and then he's in with Roger and Bertram, rattling off a number of major international accounts and telling them they could all be part of SC. Bertram asks how, and Duck spins the truth, saying that "Putnam, Powell, and Lowe" want to open a New York office to deal with their American clients, and "they love the idea of just sticking their key in the door at Sterling Cooper." Roger cuttingly asks if this is "as solid as American Airlines," but Duck's courage is being fueled by the best gin money can buy, and he responds in kind, saying that maybe they're happy with being a third-tier player. Roger looks chastened, and says they can think about it, but Duck ups the ante, saying he needs to know they're open to the idea, because if so, he'll give Powell five business days to come up with a price for controlling interest. Bertram is loving Duck's change in demeanor, but declines his oh-by-the-way alternative of them giving him a price to take to them. "Let them open the kimono." I hope he's not being literal, because in an episode that's sexually confusing enough as it is, Bertram-as-Jame-Gumb is really beyond the pale. Duck, attempting to sell out his employers with absolutely no assurances, looks like he's shitting his pants underneath his bravado, which is one of the many less-desirable effects of alcohol with which he'll soon be reacquainted.
Don apparently slept on the couch, although it's not clear if he even had company, much less what gender that company was. As we hear the kids playing in the pool, Don gets a number out of his wallet, picks up the phone, and dials long-distance. When the other party answers, he opens with, "It's Dick Whitman." I hope this means that scene in the car dealership is finally going to pay off, because I can't think of anyone else to whom he'd use that name, and also it's KILLING ME. I wonder if this is also the person he sent the book to way back in the first episode? That hasn't paid off yet either, and the part about being himself again applies to the seeming reemergence of Dick Whitman. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense -- Dick took over Don's identity to escape from his family. Now that that family is dead, though, he's doing the reverse to escape from the new one. Anyway, Don says he'd love to come see the person, and writes down the address in the copy of Joy's book (which does suggest that she slept there with him). He tells whoever it is that he'll be there soon, hangs up, and rips the page out. We get a quick view of it before he folds it up (can't make anything out, unfortunately), and then we pull back in a mirror image of the shot they use for the Mad Men logo, which, hearkening back to that split image of him a few episodes ago, suggests that he's now living the exact opposite of his old life. "What'll I Do" fittingly pipes up as a delivery man leaves Don's recovered suitcase on the doorstep of the Draper house, bringing Betty's dream to reality, and we go to closing credits.
John Ramos is a writer and producer living in Los Angeles. You can reach him at couchbaron@gmail.com.
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