Meanwhile, in the land of Mao, no cocktails are being served, and Kaytee's tripping the light Ho Chi Minh fantastic. We have several establishing shots of China and its inhabitants, and I remind myself to find out just how much a ticket to China is and if I can convince Wedge to go with me. All I need is a couple extra thou and a promise to Wedge that yes, we will visit Hong Kong and yes, I'll buy him every kung-fu DVD he can carry.

The band members get sped around pell-mell by the Good Doctor, barely able to snap a picture before he carts them along behind him. Back at the hotel, jet lag and boredom set in as the Good Doctor drones on and on about their hectic schedule and the kids make a mental note to set the Good Doctor's hotel room on fire.

Our little saucy Scooter ultimately decides that the "bed check" that's been installed by the Good Doctor is not really his "thing." Scooter the Scurrilous scampers from room to room on the girls' floor, blithely ignoring the curfew rules. His number's up when the Good Doctor arrives at his room for the bed check and his roommate performs the following skit:

Roommate: Scott? Oh, you look great Scott.
The Scott Who Isn't There: Why, thank you, Sean.

Ha! A HA HA! A HA HA HA! Oh, God! That's...that's just SO funny! Oh-ho! Boy, you got me there, Sean! That was so convincing! And so funny! So goddamn funny! You're a laugh riot there, band boy. Truly.

The Good Doctor's not finding Sean's wacky band antics half as funny as I am, however. Scott eventually makes it back down to his room, gasp, TEN MINUTES AFTER CURFEW! The horror! His doorway is once again darkened by the Good Doctor. Sean once again tries some creative evasive maneuvers -- namely, shutting the door in the Good Doctor's face a few times. That's another good one, Sean! Whew! Stop. Please. I can't breathe.

Doctor Doolittle has a few choice words with Scott wherein it is established that Scott has screwed up, the Doctor is none too pleased, and he better get his drum-bashing ass into bed where it belongs. That Scooter. What a scamp.

Bahamas Booty Camp. Shanna's moaning about how she and Abalone are best friends but that now, here in the sun-soaked land of liquor, she feels like they're strangers. Yeah. Eight vats of daiquiris will make strangers of the bestest of friends. Funny how that is. Shanna declares that she had no interest in getting wasted and finding guys to hook up with. I think Shanna's actually thirty-two and just going on this trip to find material for her new exposé, High-School Sluts And The Friends They Leave Behind. Jen and Abalone sport their tans and their ability to smoke cigarettes without actually inhaling.