Chris and Sara give another toast and present Trista and Ryan with a framed photo of their families, as well as two framed quotes. One of them, Chris tells us, "pulled [him] out of an unbelievable spiral," adding, "That quote saved my life." That must have been some quote. Too bad we never get to see what it is and have ours lives saved as well. Trista's quote is from Emerson, which apparently Ryan once recited to her in one of his video messages, but, I mean, good luck finding where. And then, fireworks. Drunk people LOVE fireworks.
Finally emulating the actual series that got us all here in the first place, the girls lounge around the pool and do fuck-all while pretending that upright citizenry is for suckers and bikinis are for hot, TV-whoring them! Trista meets the other girls at the pool, pulling off her shirts and revealing the words "Ryan's Babe," written, in script, in sequins, on her ass. Did I mention the sequins? A million dollars for the shoes she'll be wearing, and we can't do better on the swimwear than a scrap of black latex and an intern with a particular knack for the Bedazzler. I mean, I know this whole series pretty much has a silent "gack" shrouding it at all times, but sometimes I really do think it's worth noting again, just to remind us that it's always, always there: gack. "Ryan's Babe." Gack.
Trista wraps up the Jackie subplot in one sentence, as we're treated to one shot of what looks like Jackie making nice with a bosomy friend of Trista's by the pool. It's not until the raw tapes of this season are released to the public that you find out that the entirety of the conversation between the two was the bridal party member sneering, "Okay, time to stop staring at my implants, Gnome." It's so not nice how they call her "Gnome."
Meanwhile, the men chill out like men do to a soundtrack of the literal cumulative amalgam of every instrumental song on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack (listen to it...it's spooky). They surf. They play volleyball. They swim. They remove, open, and drink cans of beer from their own finely-honed six-packs. Jet skis. Kayaks. Chillin'. Ah, to be a dude. Catching a rare private moment and apropos of absolutely nothing, Ryan takes out his T-Mobile cell phone and dials a number. Back at the pool, Trista's phone rings, ringing the actual jingle that you hear at the end of every T-Mobile commercial, and she picks it up, exclaiming, "I got a message from Ryan! A picture message!" Man. What a horribly depressing exercise in corporate synergy. I guess this also means that Trista and Ryan are talented enough to win Oscars, much the same as the former pitchperson of this campaign, against whom it seems they've now forced a hostile takeover. Yuck. That sucked. At least we have the comfort of knowing that those two and this show have now totally lost all of their integrity! Oh, wait.