The four friends are out to dinner, dressed to the nines. Carrie announces that she's going to San Francisco for a book tour. By definition, a tour includes more than one city, so Carrie, once again, is kidding herself. She says she's "very big in San Francisco," and Mir leans in and says, "You mean, Big is in San Francisco." By way of Napa Valley, but whatever. Carrie says she needs to get laid, badly. She's been having dreams where she "runs up to complete strangers and just starts kissing them." Wow, how spicy. Good thing this is on cable! Mir says that if Carrie wants to get laid so badly, she doesn't have to go across the country; she can just go across the restaurant, where a table of four handsome guys are rubbernecking in the girl's direction. Char says, "Cute, cute, cute!" She has on the cutest (Michael Kors?) cut-out suede aqua top. Sam looks and says, "Boring, boring, and boring. Just like these scallops." She pushes her plate away and picks up her martini. Dude, scallops are a wild card. Once I ordered scallops and they came out gritty, like day-at-the-beach gritty. Riding your bike behind a city bus gritty. NYPD Blue gritty. It was criminal.
Carrie suggests that perhaps Sam is "suffering a been-there done-that existential crisis." Could be. Sam says it isn't her, it's New York: "They should change the name to Same York." Mir takes a bite of Sam's rejected scallops and says they're fantastic, and that the guys are cute, too. Carrie says she doesn't care; she just wants one of them to lie on top of her for a while. She "needs to feel the weight of a man on [her]." Two words for you, Car: Louis. Leroy. Three more for you: Never on top? Of course, Carrie probably only does it lying on her back. Louis Leroy was hot, he was a man, he wanted you, and you. Walked. Away. Told you so. You probably could have banged Berger, too, but your stupid standards got in the way of that one. And P.S.: Vibrators give you orgasms. If it's "weight" you're after, might I suggest a big dog, or one of those long pillows? Miranda says it's too bad women can't hire male prostitutes. Sam says, "Women do." Carrie says that's "only in bad screenplays and first novels." Yeah, that's what they want us to think. Women wanting sex on demand? And paying for it? It's just tacky and base! Oh, fuck you. I say put brothels on every corner and be done with it. See, I have more sex-positive ideas, like Sam. If you want, cruise over to my website and read about them there.
Sam and Miranda, the practical ones, have an idea for cool brothels. Mir calls it "an incredible investment plan!" and wants to put them on every corner. Sam says, "Starfucks." Yup. Char says that "a place like that doesn't exist because women don't think of sex like that, we don't' have that animal instinct, we need to feel things -- isn't that right, Carrie?" Oh, Char, grow the fuck up. Isn't she thirty yet? Hasn't she noticed a change in her sex drive at all? Carrie says Big is her "male prostitute," and that "relief is just a train ride away." She's taking a train to California? What a dumb idea. But post-9/11, I guess we're all still supposed to be scared shitless of flying and want to go backwards in time and, you know, add two days' travel time to our business/getting laid trip. Except not. Carrie says it'll be fun, especially if Sam comes with. "Oh, come on, two girls on a train! It'll be very Some Like It Hot!" That was over forty years ago, and Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis were running from the Mob. And in drag. This scenario would have potential if it were a Sopranos cross-over, and if there were a drag king band traveling to San Francisco. But it isn't, and therefore will suck. Carrie tries to bribe Sam by saying they'll stay in a "luxury suite in a four-star San Francisco hotel." Oh, no hotel plugs for San Francisco? That's cold, man. Sam asks what time they leave "Same York." Carrie says yay and sing-songs that "[she's] gonna get laaa-aid, [she's] gonna get laaa-aid." Then will she shut uuu-uuup? Good.
Tons of pretty lingerie is neatly strewn over Carrie's bed, as she writes on her laptop in front of a mirror. Oh, boy. Nice touch. She VOs that "certain women of a certain age are all after a certain thing -- and that certain thing does not involve a certain ring." What, designer purses? Carrie sips her martini and VOs some more: "Are we the new bachelors?" "We" being women. And "bachelors" being "those who want to get laid," right? My answer is yes.
Carrie and Sam, dressed to the nines again (Sam in a chic orange suit, Carrie in some kind of awful flappery black and silver gown with a black visor on her head), head down the platform, ready to board the train. Carrie says, "It's not the destination, it's the journey." mm-hmm. She also thinks she's getting a pimple. Sam thinks trains are sexy. Come on, already. All are bored!
They hop on, wiggle and giggle down the narrow train hallway, and are taken to their rooms by a white-coated porter. He opens the door, and it's rather small. Soup-can small. Apartment in New York small. And the shower is over the toilet. Sam says she's "beginning to understand why there was a murder on the Orient Express." Heh.
The doorbell in Char's (for real now) apartment chimes. She answers, in workout clothes. It's her bald lawyer! He brought over her divorce papers to sign. She seems a little surprised to see him there, but invites him in anyway.
Char turns to walk down the hall, and he says, "Whoo! Hot!" Char spins and asks, "Excuse me?" He meant outside. It's hot outside. But of course he's hot for Char; who wouldn't be? She's gorge. He asks, "So this is the pagoda we fought for?" Yeah, but now Char is thinking of selling. She is? Oh, whatever. Bald Lawyer says he knows of a place about to go on the market, though it "may be a little bachelor for [Char's] tastes." Char says she had to make over her current place as well -- "it used to be the place where plaid furniture came to die." They share a laugh. Go on, kiss him, Char. Now it's time to sign the divorce papers. She sits and signs, and he leans in over her. A drop of sweat slides off his head and lands on her signature. Char is a little grossed out, and offers him a tissue to wipe himself off with. He grins at her a little stupidly, and she points out that now he has a gob of tissue stuck to his head. He says he's "a fucking mess today." Char smiles in an icked-out way. They're going to do it.
Carrie and Sam head to the club car for a "classic train dinner." Of course, when they get there, it's hot dog city. Potato Chipville. Land of the $3 soda. Train food sucks. They survey the landscape sadly, and Carrie says she thought there'd be "white linen tablecloths and Bing Crosby singing at a piano." Oh, wow. Out of touch, she is! More wrong she could not be! They sit at the only open table, with two "Amish" people. A simple man with his simple wife. Except it's so phony I can't even stand it. Sam asks if Carrie has noticed that each time the train stops, "good-looking people get off and more ugly people get on. This is the train to Ugly! There isn't one person on this train [she'd] fuck." That's a fun game to play (you know, the "who would you do" game), but you can't live your life that way, thinking the hot are going to always be around when you want them. Just doesn't happen. Carrie says she's horny too, and "nine hours rocking on a train doesn't help." She apologizes to the Amish woman. What, don't we get an apology, too? Carrie asks Sam if her zit is getting bigger. It is. Oh, boy.
Char and her Bald Lawyer step into the bachelor pad for sale. Wow, a zebra rug! How very nearly extinct. Bald Lawyer shows her all the features, including a bar in the bedroom, blinds on a remote for quick dimming, and super-sexy songs on the surround sound. Bamp. Ba bamp bamp. Bammmmp! Char says she can't believe men think it takes "all that" to get women into bed. Because that's the blueprint, guys. Lawyer asks, "What does it take?" Char is all, whuh? He gets right to the point, and I love him for it: Charlotte is the sexiest woman he's ever met. And he wants her, bad. Woo! Points for trying. She protests, softly, then admits to it being "hot in here." So, take off all your clothes! Char is getting so hot, she's gonna take her clooothes off! With a little bit of unh, unh. Bald Lawyer says he's "fucking Romeo over here!" and that he "fantasizes about [her] lips." Her "perfect, pink lips." Oof. I have to say, this direct approach is really, really working on me. Char looks at him. He looks at her, breathing unsteadily. Char runs across the room and hops right on top of him. Woo hoo!
Carrie sits in her tuna can room, eating a train club sandwich. The zit on her cheek is huge. She VOs that she's taken "two toilet showers." It can't get more pathetic than this. Or can it? She calls Mir to complain. Oh yeah, a whiny phone call moves the action right along. Sam rushes in and explains that "a group of guys not resembling the Elephant Man" have just gotten on board and are hanging out in the bar car, having a "bachelor party." Carrie says that the zit makes her want to hide out. Sam threatens her fiercely, and Carrie tells Mir in her baby voice that she "has to go to a bachelow pawty."
Char and Anthony are hanging out in a really happening gay bar. Two nearly naked go-go boys, ah ah ah! She asks how someone can have "really hot S-E-X with someone they don't even like." Oh, Char. How old are you, again? It dawns on Anthony that Char just got laid, and he demands details. She says it was "unbelievable" and that maybe "it was all the leather." Anthony says he understands the leather part. Char needs to know how to keep the just-sex relationship just sex. Anthony schools her: Limit the conversation to "fuck me" and "get out." Char wonders if that isn't rude. Anthony says, "No, it's hot." Then, to the cocktail server, "Hello! Where's my drink!" Ooh, hot.
Carrie and Sam step into the bar car, dressed up within an inch of their lives. Haven't they learned yet that on the train you don't have to try that hard? A bunch of totally average guys look up, then look back at their beers. Sam "hello"s and "hi"s all of them, then orders a bottle of champagne. She asks one of the guys if he'd like to help her "pop [her] cork," and he turns away in response. Sam slips into a downward spiral of pout. She thought she was looking pretty hot! But they like her not. Carrie tries to reassure her, then asks a guy if they could just pity-flirt with Sam to make her feel better, but the guys, who are all married, says they're "trying to be good." Bo-ring! Trains suck. All are booored!
Back in the tuna can, Carrie tries to pop her monster zit and Sam drunkenly slurs that she is in fact having a "mid-life thing." You and Mariah Carey, honey -- both in the bottom of an empty bottle of champagne. Carrie pops her zit, and Sam says they should open another bottle to celebrate. What?
Sam and Carrie are now at the bookstore in San Francisco. The assembled crowd is impressive, as Sam helpfully points out. Molly Shannon dashes over and says the crowd is mostly there to see Mr. Winkle, the adorable little dog/author. Carrie is opening up for Mr. Winkle. "He's huge on the internet," says Molly. Ouch. Or, yay! But really, ouch. And it makes no sense that Mr. Winkle is outdrawing Carrie's sex book, or drawing a crowd that would also care about Carrie's sex book. But whatever -- it's funny, and the little doggie is so adorable! Sam goes back to the hotel to take a hot bath.
Carrie waits backstage with Mr. Winkle. His tongue is so long and pant-y! He has the cutest stripey top on, too, which Carrie compliments him on. Aww, Mr. Winkle.
Carrie reads. Hardly anyone cares. When she asks if anyone has questions, there's only one: "When does Mr. Winkle come out?" Heh. Soon enough. Another hand is raised. "This Mr. Big character, does he have a real name?" It's Big himself. Carrie says that he does, but she can't reveal it, as she has to respect his privacy. What a moment, not.
Carrie rushes back into her hotel room and evicts Sam from the bathtub. She needs to get laid! Sam gets out, covered in suds, and says Carrie "had better fuck him good," because she doesn't want to go through this again in six months. What? Oh, whatever.
A piano tinkles in the background. Carrie puts on a black dress shockingly similar to the green dress she had on last week. It's ugly. She opens the door, and Big is there. He asks if she "hid the body," or did whatever she had to do that kept him waiting for half an hour. Oh, I forgot how much I dislike Big's selfish ways. Carrie hangs the "shhh" sign on the door. That's awfully presumptuous. But then, that's Carrie. Big brought her some cinnamon gum from the store. He named it, and plugged the gum, but I'm not going to. I'm so over all the S&TC bullshit product placement, even if it's accidental. Carrie makes a big display of sexily offering him a piece. Trying too hard, dear. Big admires the room. Carrie admires Big, then jumps on him. He swallows his gum from surprise, and from Carrie's tongue forcing it down his throat. Whoops. Not sexy. He says they'll have to run to make their dinner reservations. She insists that she's not hungry, but he says he promised his vineyard partners that he'd make this restaurant connection and that they have to go now. Um, okay. Still not sexy.
At dinner, Big pours wine and says he saw her book in a mall, "right there in the window, to the real books. Cute cover. Sexy." Carrie is all, "Sexy, huh!" Dial it down, hon. She asks what he thought of the book, and he says he "had no idea [he] hurt [Carrie] that much. It was hard to see it in print." Oh, he saw her columns before, but reading them all at once like that, one after the other, was rough. Carrie tries to play it off. "It's just writing! It's all in the past!" So, how's the wine business? Great, says Big. And was he really that much of an asshole about the apartment key thing? Oh, boy.
Back in the hotel room, Big reads Carrie's book to her. Well, the parts about himself. Carrie lies on the bed, frustrated. She knows she's not going to get any, as Big asks if he was cold. No? Well, what about chapter three? She tries to lead him into her arms, but he says he doesn't want her to get hurt again. She begs him to kiss her, or at least lie on top of her. He says she doesn't use good judgment when it comes to him. And why is it that you, Big, can never ever give Carrie what she wants, when she wants it? P.S.: The hair dye is really, really bad. ["God, seriously. What is he, Kirk Douglas? Just go grey, Chris!" -- Sars] Carrie insists that she's fine. Doesn't she look fine? She does. Big asks they that they talk more, about this part on page 39...
Char falls back into bed with her Bald Lawyer. He says he loves making love to her, and her skin! It's so smooth! She corrects him: It's just sex, and thanks -- he has "a hard dick." Now would he put on his pants and go now, please? He obliges. And I really, really hope that is stunt back hair. It's a freaking sweater! The Planet of the Apes called; they want you back home. He suggests that they go out to dinner on Saturday, and Char says "no," because it's just sex. They're not a couple, he's "just a great fuck." Clear? It's clear. He doesn't seem to mind.
Carrie gets her wake-up call. She's fully dressed. So is Big. They didn't do it. She heads to the shower to prepare for her two book readings that morning. Three book readings in the same city? I'm so sure. Well, maybe in Same York. Big calls her back to bed, and they do it. Off-camera. He says she'll need material "for the sequel." What a fucking rip-off. Even the biggest Big 'shippers on the boards probably feel ripped off by that.
Yet another bookstore. Carrie reads. Does she really say in each column that she "has to wonder" about something or other? What an awful conceit. Very formulaic. Much like this show, which, I have to say, is running half-good, half-bad this season, which on the whole isn't a great average. S&TC has stuck to its guns -- and to the formula -- and succeeds on being original conceptually, but not episodically. In fact, it gets downright dull sometimes.
Sam appears as Carrie autographs books for no one in particular, and says, "Luggage in the car, car by the curb." Sam really has a way with lines like these. Carrie tells her that she and Big did, in fact, do it, and that's all she'll say on the matter. Well, she'll tell her more on the train. Sam is all, train? She bought first-class tickets home, and that's that. Sam sighs that she can't wait to get back to New York. Carrie asks about the mid-life crisis. Sam says, "Honey, who's mid-life?" She and Carrie head out to the car, as Carrie VOs that sometimes it's "not the journey, but the destination." But mostly, the important thing is getting there.