Packing montage. Hope you like the sound of zippers. I feel like I'm caught in some hellish "Banned Paula Zahn Promos of 2002" loop, but that's just me. Satan securely zips up his suitcase, sealing inside the plague of slaughtered cattle he got Trista as a sign of his earthly devotion for her as a gift for her birt-tay. He tells us without a whiff of humanity behind those vacant eyes, "If I didn't expect to be in the final four originally when I signed up for this, I probably wouldn't have came [sic] here." Sigh. Anyone else think the word "writer" should have really sarcastic quotes around it? Until he gets himself a really good "editor," I mean.
Rhymin' knows big words! "My whole mindset has changed now. I'm trying to get, actually, to number one." Pipe down, you Machiavellian manipulator, you! Do you want them all to hear your strategy?
Outside the house, "Let Me Go On Like A" Trista "In The" Rehn tells us, "I really didn't think that you could be in love with more than one person at the same time. But I'm thinking that feeling may be changing in me." Man. The distance between "hopeless romantic" and "whore" is a place that you could walk across with five steps down. Good thing Colorado is so close to Utah. Where the polygamy lives.
A private plane that we're supposed to believe is heading to Vail takes off into the blue California sky. Brrrrr. Goodbye forever, warm weather. We cut to a rustic-looking wooden sign reading "Vail," below which is written some Vail distinction beginning "Home of the 1999..." Home of the 1999 what, for crying out loud? Home of the 1999 Snow Place Like Home Shoveling Competition? Home of the 1999 Puffy Coats For Kids Gore-Tex Drive? Home of the 1999 rich brats in my high school who went skiing all the way across the country every Christmas break because their parents forgot there was this one state kind of nearby called "Vermont"? Perhaps we'll never know.
Stock footage shots ripped from the Twin Peaks opening credits make me long for cherry pie and erudite television in equal measure, as Rhymin' looks right at home standing on a mountaintop explaining, "The mountains are a big part of me and a big part of who I am." Out on Main Street (I'm so sure that's what it's called), a coat-clad Trista tries not to burst into miserable, where-ARE-we tears when Rhymin' walks up and gives her a big hug. Now, I've never been to Vail. But I've been to Boulder, Lake Placid, Burlington, and Big Bear, and I can tell you this: they're all exactly the same. Adorable little picturesque towns with one long street of clapboard houses and unironic General Stores, where you walk around for an hour and marvel, "God, it must be so peaceful to live here" and then you walk around for another hour and marvel, "God, my boredom is so palpable it's actually acquired its own scent. By the way, is anyone else cold?" But Trista is game for now, because the less she talks the more quick-cut editing there is and the sooner she can get out of there. We learn, "We walked over to the fire station. And everyone was standing outside waiting for us." And sure enough, in front of a giant red fire truck, several uniformed men stand around, seemingly without a care. Shouldn't someone go back inside, just in case...? Oh, you say the snow mostly just puts all the fires out for you? Oh, very well, then. The men introduce themselves to Trista, and a quick aside with two of the firemen -- Mike and Jake -- yields the Statler-and-Waldorf-esque pearl, "She's a hottie. Way out of my league." And yet, nary a pun about having to turn the hose on her on account of her being so "smokin'." Anyway. "And probably Mike's league, too." Oh, that Mike. Will he never win? Fire pole hijinks ensue.