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Previously on Taxicab Confessions: Mumbai: There are only so many windmills you can stare at before you start to get dizzy, so it was time to bolt Amsterdam and head for India. Tears were shed at the living conditions of some of the local population, to the point where there was hardly time for all the hating, complaining, and line-jumping that characterized previous legs. Millie wanted to come back and help the poor people if she wins the money. (If she doesn't, it's every man for himself.) It turned out that rush hour on a train out of Mumbai was a bad place to be a boob -- no, not a boob like BuffJon is a boob. A boob like a boob, you know? Kelly got a mouthful of laundry water but avoided the shower of fish juice, giving her a .500 average in Avoidance of Fetid Fluids (AFF) for the week. Tian and Jaree reversed their rapidly sinking fortunes with a surprisingly good showing, while Millie and Chuck continued to slide down the slippery slope to...well, to somewhere very bad. The Falconettes, who were hindered by markedly unhelpful locals, bad bus karma, and a bad case of Killer Fatigue, lost in a heartbreaker. "Who will be eliminated..." Microsoft completes work on a plan to stop giving stock to employees entirely, in favor of multi-packs of Jolly Ranchers. "�next?" Ah, yes. The old "Who will be eliminated next?" -- the marker of all non-elimination legs. You'd think they'd be a little trickier. I'd say The Amazing Post-Production Facilities are suffering from a severe shortage of evil and trickery, wouldn't you?
Credits. This Week's Fun Fact You Can Learn By Zaprudering The Credits With The Assistance Of TiVo: There's a blue-and-silver outfit behind Al's head that appears to have been recovered from a prom limo that was lost in a tar pit in 1984 and only recently unearthed. [BOMP.]
Commercials. Use Kodak paper, it just might make your children better-looking. No promises, though.
"Chicka chicka chicka chicka-bucka-chicka chicka chicka chicka," says the music as we dive back into Mumbai, India, which is apparently a leading exporter of...um, drum machines? Anyway, Phil explains that eighteen million people live here, in a city only one-tenth as large as Los Angeles. Just as you begin to think, "Boy, that would make for some teeming throngs," Phil actually uses the expression "teeming throngs." You know, if there were an Amazing Race bingo game, one of the squares would totally say, "Phil Refers To Teeming Throngs." It would be next to "Phil Refers To The Crowded Streets Of This Chaotic Marketplace," of course. Speaking of Phil, he now appears in a shirt that looks like two bicyclists riding beside each other ran right up and over his pecs, and explains that we are at the Gateway of India pit stop, where the six remaining teams have spent the last twelve hours eating, sleeping, mingling, and trying to get the fish smell out of their hair. For some reason, rather than giving the usual explanation of the pit stop protocols, Phil goes all the way back to the "they'll have to figure out for themselves...from clues they'll find in sealed envelopes" routine. Phil. Dude. This is not the remedial class. I don't cut with the blunt-ended scissors, so let's get moving. In his set of weekly contemplations, Phil ponders whether Tian and Jaree will continue to be the sisters who are doing it for themselves, or whether they'll start pecking at each other's eyes again. He also wonders about the much-loved clowns, who eluded elimination in the last leg but face a last-place departure. I wonder if unicycling is an efficient mode of international travel.